Good morning, my contemporary,

Let me tell you, friend, even though we haven't
met. After all,
the world is a somewhat overgrown neighborhood,
something that got out of hand.
I live three or four blocks from your time,
meat and bread here cost as much
as they do there, it rains and floods here just as much
as there, here they vote for liberalism,
and then the rent and the electricity
and the gas and the suicides go up just like on
the block where you try to love life. Good morning, my contemporary,
in a century no one will know your name
or mine, we will have been caged
within a positive name
that History and anthropology will study
as if your fears today, my loves
today, all your battles and my defeats
were nothing more than the corpse
of a well-preserved bird.
We are contemporaries, we are drenched by the
same loneliness, we eat more or less the
same goblins, the years will pass,
other tenants will come to your house,
my books will pass to my daughters and then
to some public library. But today
we are immortal, this day is ours,
oh, my friends, today we could
set fire to the clocks and throw them into the sea.
Who knows what will happen tomorrow.