late poem

I work so hard as I entered
the deep warm night.

I'm so tired lile a long leaf
that the sun burnt

I live like this
working till I fall apart
as if I was a machine

My eyes can't stand
no more light
my ears hear so far a away
the echoes of a silvered silence

But I must work hard
or else I would get no reasons
to cherish my own desires

Lately I find the nights
so empty, I must put some
task in the middle
of nothing

Oh, Yes.
You probably love me,
all right

But you are so impredictable,
so misterious, so lost in yourself
in such a long distance
than I'd rather broke my eyes working,
than expecting
your improbable presence

So I die like the days
and I'm born with the roses
And I insist in doing something
to forget the distance
that suddenly arouses.

so I'm working

Oh, my love,
why should we die
so softly
night after night
why should we ever,
ever have to die ?