Silence is the enemy of revelation,
hope is the enemy of despair.
I search for a sanctuary for my heart
and a dream to embrace with it
the putrescent wounds.
From time immemorial,
Despair is violently knocking
on the doors of my escaping life.
So, who will paint the palms of the sun?
and teach me to amass joy in front of my windows,
and leave to me,
to me alone,
his vast embrace,
to move in it,
and to cry in it over the past,
and to teach me,
that nothing deserves life,
except his love.