Please stay,
let the war start to slumber
and the graves rest.
A truce is needed
so that my heart can find a moment of rest from your love,
so that the horses of your dreams do not trample my entrails
every time that I miss you.
May the poem that never grew tired of you
go up in flames,
and its ashes be scattered over a river.
May it become nutrients for the reeds,
so that the flute can soothe your pain.
Who was there first,
who left first?
Let them wonder.
Let them listen to the evening,
the tales that are told by the night.
Please stay,
when the rain kisses the earth and becomes one with its scent,
when the stars cover the heavens and disappear in the morning,
when the travellers pack their belongings and hope dies.
Please stay,
let the name of the city be your name
and banish the memories.
The trees embrace by the wayside,
regardless of their colours,
they shine green with joy,
fading into yellow,
and finally let their leaves fall.
If only I were a tree.
Please stay,
I will go.
