When I open mine. . .
Our latitudes cross the same star.
When I close my eyes, brother,
You open yours.
When our hands carve the marble of cypresses,
Neither marble nor cypress acquaints us.
Our latitudes cross the same star
And the same hours.
Our houses are unaware of the great time.
In the distances, coolest winds rise,
Our darknesses follow one another.
Our latitudes cross the same star.
And we watch the same sky in eternity
Yet we don’t see each other.
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