Memory of Caceres

I know you're impatient to get to your destination

You imagine you exalted to music

Your tears turned into puffs of light

For the sleepless nights and the mist of the field.

You'll come indicated by the broom and cistus

Most of you know since that distant glow

Of which some days I decide to talk

Cable tree in dry summer

It was your father's house, now entire city of love

Awaits you in your domain planted into nothingness.

You'll run to meet him on his way to the afternoon

Stepwise oaks lean, blunt

Land without beginning or end, or who shall narrate

Except that time you open your eyes

Ephemeral and midnight silent lucidity

As if all things were quiet.

These are the places that await you always,

shields and towers, storks and stones.

The red mark of an anonymous,

An arrowhead, bow still egregious

Horseshoe which will cross and bathed in sunshine.

Come on. That's your story.

Is willing to accept and take you as his own:

It will give you coordinates from its most intimate

Eternal and elegant as the season

Original moment on which gravitate your freedom.

(After flowering, the sand will fall apart as all

And then I can finally say I was born).