Travel Notebook

The wall devoured by the sun

the little flowers enclosed in their holes

their mouths open to the hopeful blue of the day

in the eyes of the water

undiscovered meanings

small drops that are blinded by the morning

and then disappear.

I put my hands on the wall

I feel the silence inside

the voice of the stones

the fever of the sea

a mystery within

I don’t know how to write it

in the open sky.

I close my eyes

pick up

with clean hands

the poem.

CARLOS RAMOS, Portugal

Translation Germain Droogenbroodt