When the time comes,
forget the names
us and play with the rain,
the light of other autumns.
When
our body no longer hurts, fears or is absent
.
When life no longer seeks us with the hands of mother or enemy,
lover who filled them
mornings
with wind and pain
.
When the lips of oblivion remember us, then you and me
we will be
in other lovers' kisses,
on the beach where we forget
the bodies
us or under him
short sun
that looks at other winters.
We will live in the light
which is in shadow or white
trails painted by airplanes
or we will be the sound signal
of trains moving away.
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