*
If one day you go where I grew up,
you shall not seal your eyes nor your mouth,
you will go where there is nothing to do,
or you'll get your hands on some craft
that will remind you of the ground
on the buttocks, angles of the necklace
of the village where you live,
where you will have smiled at someone,
because you always take and leave something,
and in death it must also be so,
because you don't go naked on the setback
of life - our leather leaves echoes
of us, between prayer and damnation.
*
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