To my family from Pinar del Rio
The tomeguines flutter in the green pine forest,
rice paddies and palms come out on the return,
inside me everything is ready
to celebrate with the August breeze.
Guavas drip along the roads,
I unfold a glance like the prodigal son
who has returned home, or to the land of his marrow.
Although my inside vibrates with joy
outwardly it is like concrete,
full of uncertainty;
happy I seem and I follow the idiotic step,
returning each year to my seed.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
