IN THE PATH OF TIMES
What has found you, my time,
that does not let me walk on your path?
Throw down your seat,
like a cigarette that burns slowly in oblivion.
I am a guest, like you, in this universe,
me, a spiritual creature;
you, an invisible, enigmatic shadow.
I walked with a stopwatch over the appointed hours,
but the clock has begun to stir in my soul,
it is pounding in my rhythm.
Butterflies, playful like memories,
come around me as messengers of the seasons,
but I do not know: for which season should I dress,
which cloak should I throw over my soul?
Do you know, my time and timelessness,
that you have become like the old witches to me
that follow me in every breath of mine?
I, how the hell, classify you,
As a “crazy” time with a lost love among the clouds.
Leave me alone, my synchronized time,
let me have fun, wander among the people of infinity.
This imagination makes me endlessly happy,
in the raindrops, when the wind begins to rebel,
when the flowers become all mine, at all times.
