What if someone misses the house,
And he becomes a patriot by calling him for country?
Or that by tying it with people's faces
If you have private faces (poetry?)
Or that (if you are) lost?
I also remember: What does what comes from,
He is not home in the language of others?
Views: Circumstances, tones of seasons, color, Size Or cracks
Or in the nets of shadows
What happened
If the land of my memories
He is not a (fictitious) land called expression, but the one on which both emotion and imagination last
Land of transiting experiences
If my house
It is not the same that can only be thought, but is it what can be seen, touched, shed, or tasted?
Whether just with my eyes, my touch, my intoxication
From my tongue? What happened?
Of home, country, solitude
In every journey:
If the journey does not stop with that
Or does it not take the field-retirement
So what?...
