I am walking,
I know that.
I will never return
to these wheatfields...
My rucksack is full
of memories...
At one point,
I will get rid
of this load....
I´m saving the light,
the greyhounds,
my bike,
some books,
and the whisper....
of the wind
on the plains.
Someone is waiting for me
across the river
on the other side....
Luis Gil de la Puente
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1-wheatfields/
