RIMA XXXVII

I will die before you: still hidden
            inside my heart
is the blade that, wielded by your hand,
            opened the mortal wound.

I will die before you; and my spirit,
            seated at the door of death
with stubborn determination, will be waiting
            for your arrival.

Hours turn to days, days turn to years
            which then fly by,
and you will finally knock at that door…
            Does anyone not knock?

Then the earth will swallow your guilt
            and your remains,
cleansing you with the waters of death,
            as in another Jordan;

there where the murmur of life
            finally dies,
like the wave that reaches the shore
            to silently expire;

there where the tomb is sealed,
            an eternity opens…
and all that we have both kept silent
            we will have to admit!