I am leaving. I am the only one left
by the same new front door.
I put down my suitcase
in front of a door, yesterday,
It was the time of sun on tables,
when the Mole laughs.
Flowers, broom fades in the street
and roses exhale
their last breath in dark clothes.
When hand wave at me my smile opens
and dies. Your hair is the field
the casket of memories walk through.
Today’s suspension stops time.
I am leaving tomorrow.
I have nothing left of you but all.
Translation by Pietro Federico