I wake up in the middle of the night, thirsty.
My father sleeps, my brothers sleep.
I am naked in the middle of the courtyard
and I have the feeling that things do not recognize me.
It seems that behind me nothing has concluded.
Yet I am again in the place where I was born.
The journey of the Salmon
in a harsh era.
I think this and I open the fridge:
a little light from the things
that stay cold.
Fabiàn Casas Argentinian Poet.
a bit of poetry is good for the soul-