I watched the years go by
In reverse order
On a trip to my childhood
In the country, at my grandparents, and in that room
With a high table, two weak chairs,
With a short bed to jump in,
I’m a country kid now.

It didn’t come anything out of my mouth, not even sounds,
Not even words,
Not even thoughts from my head,
Just a hiccup of joy.

It smells in the room,
The smell of plums, greens and apples from the garden,
The plum branch rides a breeze
Through the open window,
Insects quarrel in the room,
I brought them old grass from the barn
And I made them a straw bed.

Mosquitoes punish me
They keep me awake,
And laugh about it,
Under the pale light of the stars.
I’m in bed counting the number of mosquitoes on the ceiling,
They and I have a pillow in common,
How many pillows did I crush on the ceiling?

The darkness doesn’t scare me
The spider in the corner doesn’t scare me
When I’m in grandma’s room,
The room that appears, then disappears,
I’m half inside and half outside,
Memories, fragments of memories
In a puddle of memory
Increasingly dry,
I drink from it because I’m thirsty,
Like the cow I was pushing
Every morning to graze,
To drink her milk, in the evening,
From the udder milked by rough hands.

I drew my grandmother’s face on paper
Which have been lost,
I drew my grandmother’s face in my memories
Which have been deleted.

When parents become grandparents
And grandparents become earth,
When the room becomes empty
And the house becomes earth,
When yesterday becomes years
And memories drown in time
As if they never existed
Do you remember them?

See, that’s why I was afraid.