My friend, how long has it been since I heard your voice?
The voice of the child, the voice of the young, now I only hear the voice of the old.
My friend, how long has it been since I saw your face and your smile?
That cinnamon colored face that is buried in my memories.
Today I find an ashen face transformed by the sun and the wind.
But the friend I once knew is still there.
My friend, how many roads did you cross? How many roads did you follow? How many roads did you leave?
Upon how many roads did your feet never trod?
My roads took me to see many places.
Some roads took me to live ephemeral days.
Other roads took me to follow eternal days
where my soul never wanted to die.
My friend, today I see the man with eyes full of an ancient cloud. But the spark of the young man continues to shine behind the cloud.
My friend, your feet that formerly playfully jumped,
today they try to haul the last memory from the past.
My friend, today I find the brother within the silence
and the whisper of yesterday’s child.
Miriam Urízar Rittmeyer