I can clearly hear your dream,
these increasingly bold steps
towards the light.
I feel this faith, turned into stone,
so close to stolen teardrops,
to thoughts sold too hastily.

I try to find in myself
at least one memory that will not belong
to the past, that will only need
a sip of melancholy to burn.

Is a glassy smile and one look
straight from the heart enough?
Or maybe I'm asking too much
for the world to come back
into existence?

Tired of the excess of future,
I try to revive the emerald flame,
smoldering innocently at my wrists;
I will be reborn,
although a prayer of farewell
will not help,
although someone will steal
the kiss you dedicated to me.

Tenderness multiplies in me,
which I will give to you
as a lifelong souvenir.
You will remain the light
I sorely miss, that I am looking for.