Time after time
I forget some strict ideas;
lagoons and  hills I visit
Begin to feel this sadness
of the bird without a nest,

Then, I ascend to the clouds
To take on other ways,
And walk on other paths,
Search for other beaches,
to drive me away from the known seas,
visiting other anxieties.
Other Islands, deserted from desire.

You do not imagine I invoke you
as the sole shelter, I have left in this shadow,
As if you were the only hope in the void
the last resort to my yearnings.

You do not even know who you are
nor you know your many faces.
At least, those that I invent;

It’s better this way
You will never know on which side
 my moon will shine,
Or whether I am on the wane
You'll never know if I'm in summer
Or is autumn setting in my woods
You will not know who inspires my poems,
Because they have no name.

And I sense an almost childlike contentment
from this secret I keep,
In front the eyes of all,
of doubts I sow in my chest;
So as not to miss the steps,
and when you do read my verses

You will feel lost