SUR.

San Juan and old Boedo, and all the sky, Pompeya, and beyond it the flooded land. Your flowing hair when you were my sweetheart, in memory, and your name blossoming in farewell. The blacksmith's corner, mud and open plain, your house, your sidewalk and the ditch, and a scent of wild herbs and alfalfa that fills my heart once more.

South, a great wall, and beyond... South, a light from a neighborhood store... You will never see me as you once did, leaning against the shop window, waiting for you. Never again will I light with the stars our walks without quarrels through the nights of Pompeya... The streets and the suburban moons, and my love and your window, all have died, I know it now...

San Juan and old Boedo, lost sky, Pompeya, as we reached the railway embankment, your twenty years trembling with affection beneath the kiss I stole from you then. Longing for things that have passed, sand that life swept away, the sorrow of neighborhoods that have changed and the bitterness of the dream that died.