THE MOURNER

As all of life's bad days pass
these days will also pass
Winds that blast you will still
and your open wound will heal

The errant soul will come back home
What was lost yesterday will turn up too
The sun will be conceived unstained
and will rise within you again

«How could I», you'll say, facing the sea,
«sunk, compassless, and lost on my trip,
arrive, sails torn, at my home quay?»

And a voice will say: «You don't know why?
The wind that smashed your ships
is the one that makes the seagulls fly»