So Long, March.
On one hand, it's not February. On the other hand, it seems that all I do this month is wait for April.
Then, into my eyes floods that infinite light, and that's when I need a walking stick, a dog, a hand, faith. And as you pass by me, touching the chill with your soft silence, blindly I sentence you to give names to all that I now do not know. Spanish Lyrics here. Version Original here.
(Happy April. Happy Poetry Month.)