It is sufficient.
It's already fainted
--that accidental word
that usually sketches itself out in farewells,
and that you bring since who knows when;
it came close
and started the bad habit of nurturing it.
Time wears out things,
and although you keep on under those separate stars
and the sun, with its overflowing wings of sulphur,
you keep on living in spite of all this
and what has already happened.
You deserve the name that life gives you
with its unforeseen and unknown impulse.