We grew old side by side, my friend,
my companion of winding paths of thistles
guardian of white flocks and
of the solitary rose of my days,
we stood silent together, my friend,
my companion of maculate voice,
and now I’ll no longer be able to take you from this shore
where you would, tenderly, soothe my wounds.
I know I’ll soon bid you farewell.
I dread knowing how the hours of a house
forever empty, after you.