What I don’t have
Is the possibility to tell you
The years I’ve spent without you
What I don’t have is the certainty of a future
What I didn’t have
Is a fair education to share with you
What I don’t have is the time-machinery
To go back and to begin everything again
What I don’t have is the possibility
To take our children to school
To listen to their voice, their cryings,
caprices, smiles, doubts.
What I don’t have are their daily questions
And the answers I can’t give them.
What I don’t have are those emotions, that here,
owing to the time, have turned into anguisce.
What I don’t have any more are
The reveries of power which have led me to prison.
What I don’t have now is the will to live
To listen and to begin again through the instruments
I’ve been learning here up to now.