Now the wind doesn’t breathe

Now the wind doesn’t breathe,

dead calm of the night with no dreams,

sails broken down

on the ocean, on the days,

no land in sight, neither gulls.

That’s what I am:

a deserter fleeing for the sea,

goodness knows where,

never again master of a destiny,

Perhaps I will always be,

or for how long, on the drift,

desire incapable to change itself,

lowland air, neither wind

nor storm or fear.,

Only, slowly, hope burns,

thirst in freshwater

of a land of mine

July 3, 2004