A leaf

How much they hurt- the sadness's bones
Crushed by the sky's lead of autumn,
Buried in the smells of jasmine, rotten leaves
And salty smell of waves longing for rest, suiciding
On these shores where died the summer's steps...

I feel like God created me from the rib of a leaf,
For always embracing the ravenously dust,
Not to give time to me, to find that wing
Of whose rib, victorious, to recreate myself,
Leaving me buried in of longing for myself slavery...