ORANGE IN BLOOM
She was softer than the water
than the soft water
She was fresher that the river,
orange in bloom
and in that street of summer,
lost street,
she left a piece of her life and departed.
First one must know how to suffer,
later to love, later to leave
and to the end to walk without thought.
Perfume of orange in bloom,
vain promises of a love that escaped in the wind.
Later, what does it matter of the later
All my life is the yesterday
that stops in the past
old and Eternal youth
that has left me as afraid
as a bird without light.
What would my hands have done to her?
What will they have done,
to leave me so much pain in the chest?
Pain of old plantation,
song of a corner,
with a piece of life,
orange in bloom.