I would like this divine October afternoon
walk along the distant shore of the sea;
that the golden sand, and the green waters,
and the pure skies saw me pass.
To be tall, arrogant, perfect, I would like,
like a Roman, to agree
With the big waves, and the dead rocks
and the wide beaches that surround the sea.
With the slow pace, and the cold eyes
and the mute mouth, let me go;
watch the blue waves break
against pimples and not blinking;
see how birds of prey eat each other
small fish and not wake up;
to think that the fragile boats could
sink into the waters and not sigh;
see that it advances, the throat in the air,
the most beautiful man, not wanting to love...
lose sight, distractedly,
lose her and never find her again:
and, upright figure, between sky and beach,
feel the perennial forgetfulness of the sea.
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