Well... I Still Dont't Know How To Do That Poem by Darlan M Cunha

*

The day summons the smell of cinnamon summons good memories,
many laughs, some wisdom, child crying, the legs of the day
walking slowly, no fuss, until something happens,
and what was sweet is over, because somebody is
on the opposite side of reason, of almost common sense,
went to idiopathy, from where he thinks he can take them all out
the rhythms of joy, with the indelible marks
that the mother, for example, leaves in the sons and daughters,
granddaughters and great-granddaughters.
The day reconvocates us. We go to it, taking away from us the weight
of the gray clouds protruding, and start living in the clear direction.


***
DeepL.com. Germany. March 2020