The tracks converge in the distance
The path is straightening
The path is narrowing
Beautiful and delicate messages
I received
They remember me
Of past ones,
Be it Christmas, New Year’s Eve,
Of the day, each day,
Of mothers, fathers, birthdays …
Thanks!
That these and other messages
Be for you
Of joyful tomorrows
Full of the same wishes,
Good, joys,
That for me they foretell.
Looking backwards,
There are so many yesterdays,
Thirty-two thousand and one hundred and forty-two
Until now
All, with few exceptions,
Became tomorrows
Joyfuls, promising.
That’s what I see.
Few exceptions
Left hard,
Bitter tomorrows,
Dark, desolate.
Did I take advantage of it?
Maybe not
After each
Another I created
If not identical, much the same.
A wide path then,
A lot ahead
Optimistic, dreamer,
The future,
With many tomorrows,
Lost of sight…
Optimistic yet,
I see the path narrow,
Like lines,
Rails of my train of life.
From an illusory perspective,
A curve!
Yet one possible change of path?
Tweet! Tweet!
Disagrees my Maria Fumaça[1]:
Yet…
They intersect, far away,
At the last station
Which I don’t see yet.
When coming
I will disembark
Homesick from yesterday,
From the travel.
With permission of the station head,
I will write on the blackboard:
Cheers lill train!
Thank you.