Dirge

Because my eyes don't cease crying

Sadness that never tires to fatigue me

Because it doesn't abate the fire that abraded me

Can whom I was never able to diminish

That blind love never tire of guiding me

to a place it doesn't know how to return me.

Nor let the whole world stop listening to me

And while my weak voice doesn't leave me.

And if in hills, in rivers or valleys

pity lives, or within lives love

in beasts, birds, plants, rocks, waters

Listen to the long history of my ills

And heel their pain with my pain

That great sorrows can heal sorrows.

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