Time for me

No one to laugh at the teenager's pimples

He rode an old bicycle and

And flew away

No one points out a man's age spots

No one sits in the shadow of a tree

To say what's right and wrong about the sun

They all talk hotly, after a century

Still very young

They turn a mountain into a horticultural farm

Turning a horticultural farm into a neighborhood

They just did to some species that

Made some kind adjustments

Two

In the time it takes to go back and forth

The things in the yard, each in its own way

The flowers that raise, the fading ones that fade

In their own way they

Loving the gift of time

Pulling back the morning, closing the dusk

Receiving the care of the stars

In order to do

Dreams arranged by others

They

only discuss things that do not concern them and never talk about the wind

They say that those winds that come and go

Since they cannot control it

they are free to blow

Three

Let's say that I have never been confined

I can freely walk between black and white

Cost, is my cheap breath

More than that, the trees that love me

Kind as a mother

Showing me different scenarios throughout the year

For my faults

Never saying half a word

I once carved a word called love on a tree

Pain in it, while I love others

Four

I have been fed and lifted up by the house called office

Feeding and lifting up

In return, I gave her half of my youth

I left the other half to wander the alleys

That way, I met someone who ate and drank snails

Tell her the meaning of a toothpick

The smallest part of life hides my joy.

Like the river crab that hid under a rock in my childhood

I was surprised and delighted

But in the house that feeds me

I've seen the other side of things.