And it was at that age...
Poetry arrived in search of me.
I don´t know, I don´t know
where it came from,
from a winter or a river.

I don´t know how or when,
no, they where no voices,
they where not words nor
silence, but from a street
it was summoned, from
the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires or
returning alone,

there it was without a face
and it touched me.