THE GRAY MAN

This land, that I have always loved,
stands on my shoulders with cold edges,
so, I cannot see its gloomy face,
but I feel everything in its barren corners.
I am a man who knows nothing of grass.
And all I imagine is my gray cane.
Do you not see this vortex in my heart?
I live faceless like a cat in the rain.
Yes, I am a gray man
Who knows nothing of the moon's soft eyelashes.