To their footsteps sing the banished
so the chances sleep
and our houses as if they have memory
chase us with their thirsty doors
and the ropes fastened to the crossbeam
but we know to renounce when smiles a path
we march with two odd socks for two left feet
it is so happy the exile when yells the conscience
and the stars with their grey glasses shred us
to teach us to flee
to flee?
it is even allowed to flee when even our names harass us?
it is even allowed to flee when we carry the vice of having born?
even of we call us Night and Longing
although the corpses we were play hopscotch in the ears
the go back always seduces us to die again
or to born in the boundary traced by a tear
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