You do not know anything about her…
nor of her joys,
nor of her anguish…
nor of her wars…

Nothing of her sleepless nights,
of her days in sailing,
of her silenced novels…

You did not know about the treacherous anxiety,
of the absurd fears,
of the evil sentinel…

Shoes to clean,
in that foggy summer…
where when listening to her voice, she discovered …
that cheating, it was not chimera…

Seven meters separate you,
those who will never join your tails,
because you did not know how to give love…
not in life, nor when you will be underground…