Source
I hope to be cured of you in a few days,
of your shadows that envelop me and shelter me,
of your whispers that sigh in the night,
and of the warmth of your arms that, modern, deceive me.
I must stop smoking you, sweet poison,
of absorbing your essence, like smoke in my veins,
to long for the silence that sometimes holds me back,
to forget you in the wind, like a serene song.
To drink you, that laughter that intoxicates my senses,
and the lips that are longing poetry,
as the sea kisses the distant sand,
breaking in its waves the echo of my cries.
It is possible, I know, even if it costs me my soul,
to follow the prescriptions of the morality in turn,
to be strong as the oak, to be wise as the wall,
to let time heal with its magic calm.