I am now past thirty

And I evaluate being a teacher.

Every morning, when I walk,

An ineffable longing tugs at me.

I walk the same old paths

The same old trite faces flicker by:

Fallen leaves swept into a corner

Or whirled away by a sudden gust of wind,

Eager and gloomy eyes

Shadowed by trees,

Carefree children and

Greetings, voluntary and innocent.

My hair is turning gray,

Loneliness is concealed in my forehead.

My hands ruffle my hair,

Intending to brush away the clinging fear.

The mirror is my friend

If someone could notice my beauty.

But it is cruel and intentionally deceives

When wrinkles gleam in the light of the oil lamp.

Solitude pursues me

Along the road I tread each morning,

Along the road my day follows,

Along the road that gives meaning to my routine.

Sometimes I cannot blame

My envy for the silhouetted

Lovers’ amorous display.

Because I have nothing to boast of

Except for the company of the cicada’s cantata or

The blankets and pillows that frequently abandon me

When my mind is overcome by sleep

My distressed heart

Frequently unveils jealousy

Especially for young lovers

Whose laughter wades through the fences.

The time will come when my voice will crack.

My hands, too, will grope.

I will become dry and barren.

Love is a myth

That is not offered me.

The summer of sinegwelas

Is a ghost that haunts

Those with no one to caress.

Whispers in the dark remains a dream,

Rice or corn to harvest

But devastated by a monsoon.

I, too, loved once when I was sixteen.

It ended in grief.

A young man who dreamt of sailing,

Who counted stars even in daylight.

The rust of old ships consumed his nails,

Devoured by tuberculosis, then tetanus.

We had not succumbed to our desires,

A bitter youth pampered by promises.

I am a guava rotting in the bough,

Desired by no one,

Faded and withered to the womb.

Old people say, better to be a virgin

Until the wedding day,

No reproach, no sin.

The child I should have had ate fire,

Before it was conceived, I had already sung a dirge.

Anguished and grieved,

Even tears elude me.