THE GRAY MAN

This land, that I have always loved,

stands on my shoulders with cold edges,

so, I cannot see its gloomy face,

but I feel everything in its barren corners.

I am a man who knows nothing of grass.

And all I imagine is my gray cane.

Do you not see this vortex in my heart?

I live faceless like a cat in the rain.

Yes, I am a gray man

Who knows nothing of the moon's soft eyelashes.