And I left my room
and I looked far away.
It is a strange era.
I laid down my head on the earth
And listened.
I heard no heartbeats
Not from the earth's skin
Not from houses made of stone
Not from colorful trees
And not from humans.
Either
The heart of the world is dead
Or
I have become deaf
In living life.
Yet, in this life
I heard many voices.
Listen!
I hear walking
To work
In streets
To a park
To a mountain
Too an open field,
To farther away, and to graves;
The voice of
Grinding and eating meat
Laughing and loving
Running till the end of joy
To the end of green
Within
A transparent solidarity of big words.
I heard talking
But I heard no heartbeats.
I saw people in seven colors.
I lost colors.
I was afraid. I hid, and I cried.
All the playing marbles, I once kept
To give to my children when I grow up
I threw away
To the stingy ocean emptied of kindness.
My back was bent
And I could not find anything less worthy to throw away.
I knew very well
Through the light from the children of forbearance
I was fooling myself, but
To what imaginary omnipotent creator you believe in
I could not find anything less worthy than my playful soul
To throw away.
In the dawn
After a great thunder
A rainbow appeared
And touched my arm.
Smiled at me.
The difference in the definition of good and bad
Is not more than that
In the composition of seven colors
And humans unsatisfied to any less than seven.
They are trapped in weakly combined colors.
They call it the pain of love
But my rainbow-
Its colors were perfect.
I fell in love. She said
"You"
I said
"You".
How light I was that day, and how bright I was inside.
Intolerant, I ran to you
To the end of the fields,
But I never reached you.
The sun was stealing your colors.
The weaving waves of wind were hiding your loud screams.
You were great, but I lacked a soul then.
I returned, and I closed my eyes,
And in a splash, you disappeared.
I found another marble
And it fell from my hands
To the ground and broke.
Oh damned heaven!
Don't play with me like this.
This was the last one my bare hands will ever touch.
Day and night
Of your poison
I dream
My little pearl is melted into tears
And fell off
And I am left empty forever.
I laid down my head on the earth
And listened.
No. I can hear no heartbeats.
I remember,
When I was a little boy,
I could feel the pulses of the time.
I could count the heartbeats of my dreams.
I could feel, by my fingers, the heartbeats of a chair.
In hide and seek, I would rely on a tree
and count its heartbeats: three in a minute.
Grass: five in a minute,
Our neighbour's wall on weekends sometimes: Thirty per minute.
Later I discovered
That was the pulse of the bed of our neighbours, and not the wall.
Later I discovered more.
And once I jumped over a curb and my rib broke.
I could hear the heartbeats of pain.
I played soccer then.
The pain itself kicked in later.
But today
Either
The heart of the world is dead
Or
I have become deaf
In living life.
