I miss you, already
Your rough beauty
How you pretend to be wild
Being already postmodern.
The swings in your mood
Welcoming and repelling me,
Caressing me, bringing me down.
Your invitations to dive into sins
Gluttony, sloth, lust and death -
When in fact, you were bringing me back to life.
A part of me is kept with you
Taken by the roar and fury of your waters
Against the Moles
Against your basalt towers.
Kept in the flight of the lapwings,
Of the swallows
In the height of your trees
In the stones on the corner of the beach of Cal
In the shyness and candor of your people
In the insensitiveness of your guests
In the sincere passion of one of your sons
With pearly blue marbles for eyes
Who never tires of telling about your beauties
Remains with you, a piece of me
Stuck in the whistle of these very waters
When they calm down
Washing the sands
Shaking the mussels
Shhh ... shhh ... shhh ... shhh
One day I will come back to see you, Torres
And make myself whole again.
Torres is the first city of Rio Grande do Sul State, the most southern state of Brazil. I've fallen in love with it.