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Night, long night of mourning,
compassionate of eternal noises
accompanied by the journey, deaf.
Light of moons, light of sun,
low and haughty tides,
cross the night,
night of stings and laments.
That perhaps, fervent expectation
of the perpetual darkness,
the journey that does not advance,
that squeezes my body
in cold sweats,
cold as this night
long of a heart that moves away.
It is not my sadness,
nor the night that vanishes
as I count the hours,
nor the flashes of the horizon
that is lost in the clouds,
they are the eternal minutes
of closing time,
that ends everywhere.
Long night, happy night!
A sunset's slope
that ends the sighing...