I walk in the streets, alleys and squares,

see eyes, gestures, hear kind words,

feel even a bit of their souls.

Whites, blacks and yellows,

adults, children and the elderly,

they are my fellow ones, comrades

on the biggest walk, back to the origins.

Back to the sixth day of that holy week, to ask our Creator

if we are on the right route He has imagined for his people.

Also ask if it would not be the time He pardons us,

disarming some cherubim’s flaming swords,

still on guard at the Paradise Gate.


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