As if they were never born
as if they were a lie
people who gave joy
that reached me as well
Saints who will not be feasted
because they will not find a day which suits them,
thoughtless ones who lost their life
in order that the dream have
a nest in which to roost
They should not have icons,
candles and olive-oil lamps
only our libations on the earth
and our glance to the stars
In the panic of life
they dance a graceful dance, their souls
Ach! my heart, give me strength
that I may find, some moment, their ability to endure