When your brooch is barely half open
in the hope of happiness and contentment,
Are you already bent and tired and out of breath?
Do you surrender to pain and agony?
Don't you see that this unholy shadow
that blackens the blue of the firmament,
this cloud exists only when the wind blows?
Will it let you see the day again?
Come back to life and get up! ... It still isn't here,
the time that at the bottom of your brooch
accommodates the regret that bends you.
It's an affront to the sun, this, your reproach,
this passing shadow that blinds you.
It is a shadow, but it is not night yet.