I will no longer cherish marble faces
and neither will I beg for smiles
like other times
within furrows dug deeply

I will no longer open tombs of memories
weeping in vain
over some flowers
the sap that burns in me

I will no longer dream about those flaming nights
when your face used to reflect itself on the moon
with stardust on your cheeks
and the sky kept us glowing...

I will no longer smile like an infant
and neither will I take grains from your hair
but on the ledge's distress
I will remain alone covered with clay