LAST CYCLE © 2008

At the continent's station, the final farewell,

The ticket paid in contained tears,

Goodbyes in an emotional atmosphere,

And departure in steps of slow, felt.

The pilgrimage in African file,

Marking the grand deeds,

The sweet lips of sugarcane,

Soften painful moments.

The clouds, like secular transport,

Carry the soul in its crossing,

On the tracks of the earth, the urn sliding,

While silence becomes melody.

The smell of the earth, soft and fertile,

Enfolds the body in a slow embrace,

The brown sheet, which the gaze sinks into,

Covers the eternal sleep, as a breath.

---

Play

---