What stings my mind, these last few breezes,
is once again the drilling unawareness of what’s next to come,
once this wheel stops its turning:
the proper capability of discerning sometimes lacks
and this provides my brain with the creeping bitterness
of what is unseen behind the eyes
and of what is untold beyond the words.
If I focus the shades that darken my horizons,
I can barely distinguish the distorted lines of a hazed vision,
pale lights hardly sparkle light-gray drops of a sky;
where should I point my finger to unveil the planets?
What pushes my head downwards and compels me to stare at the ground?