Give Me a Memory


If you walk beside me,
here where I’m resting,
and if my image
back in your mind—
although too busy,
give me a memory.

Remember for me the scent of the fields
after a rainy day,
the sunrise, the sunset,
and the road that runs slowly
back home.

Stay here over me for a little while.
Touch me with your imagination.
Exchange these sad flowers
with the scent of freshly baked bread
and the taste of wine near fermentation.

I’ll give you back the home fragrance,
the dreams that came true,
unhappiness and loneliness,
which eventually fill up
while time opens
the door of the infinite.

I will follow you up to your sunset.
I’ll chase away the fear of your night.
We will be together—a memory—a smile.

Timeless memories haphazardly emerge, not only changing our vision of life but also revealing old emotions far away over time. Like flashes of light in the darkness, we must grasp them before they slip away, making sure they come back to be part of us. They will help us when the darkness comes.