Palermo en octubre

There is a place and a month and a rose
and a special perfume and a sorrow:
it's October just like other years,
but now it's October and it's just
you discover what it's like to be alone
and to look at the color of spring.

From Plaza Italia to the river,
Palermo has put on
its new green suit
to forget the cold.

They arrive at a trot
the last mateos
to the screaming dead air
of Dorrego's elbow.
Secret of couples
on the way to the Rosedal
and the lake that reflects
promises as it passes:
Sunday, spring,
the stain, the slide,
the buyanguera afternoon
and nothing, nothing else.

My October solitude
does not matter to others:
Palermo in springtime
is no place to cry!