Here once again, my lips memory-laden, unique and yet similar to you.
I am that torpid intensity which is a soul.
I have persisted in the approach to joy and the favoring of pain.
I have crossed the sea.
I have practiced my lands; I have seen a woman and two or three men.
I have loved a white and haughty girl of Hispanic quietude.
I have seen an infinite suburb where an insatiable immortality of sunsets are accomplished.
I have seen some fields where the raw flesh of guitar was painful.
I have savored numerous words.
I deeply believe that that is all and that I will neither see nor do anything new.
I believe that my days and my nights are equal in poverty and richness to those of God and those of all men.
Translated by Anthony Kerrigan