FUIMOS.

I was like a rain of ashes and weariness in the resigned hours of your life... A drop of vinegar spilled, fatally spilled, on all your wounds. Through my fault you were a swallow in the snow, a rose withered by the cloud that never rains. We were the hope that does not arrive, that falls short, that cannot glimpse its gentle afternoon. We were the traveler who does not plead, who does not pray, who does not cry, who lay down to die.

Go...! Don't you understand that you are killing yourself? Don't you understand that I am calling you? Go...! Don't kiss me, for I am weeping for you, and I wish I could weep for you no more! Don't you see? It is better that my sorrow lie abandoned with your love, freed from my final love. Go! Don't you understand that I am saving you? Don't you understand that I am loving you? Don't follow me, or call me, or kiss me, or weep for me, or love me anymore!

We went on, embracing the anguish of a foreboding, through the night of a road with no way out, pale remnants of a shipwreck, shaken by the waves of love and life. We were driven on a desolate wind... shadows of a shadow returning from the past. We were the hope that does not arrive, that falls short, that cannot glimpse its gentle afternoon. We were the traveler who does not plead, who does not pray, who does not cry, who lay down to die.