Hope will awaken, tomorrow we will discover
the dreams, or prisoners as we are
of life, we will forget it all.

It will rain, there will be more light or the fog
as ever will conceal its eyelids
in a door which is opened and closed.

Sometimes I think that the days are those eyes of yours
which are quiet in the morning, that rain
which separates us from March to April

like a shadow which shows the void
to the light. And it has nowhere to approach from,
without even a name in the doorway.

© I always counted ten and you never appeared, Kepa Murua, 1999.