I'm hopeful I'll keep living halfway.
Halfway through disaster and an awake mind.
Anchored in a future without streets,
nor mirages,
in this rained present that still
remembers how, for example, yesterday,
you wore my dream of poetry tenderly.


I'm hopeful that my dreams of being won't fade out
my cravings for tomorrow.
May your voice
resurrect the memory of kisses,
and may the time of silence love me
whom he loves me.


I am left hopeful that
I will want to live halfway through,
that every morning I emerge in pain
and embrace my efforts to move on.


Hope to live, as if that were enough.