This is a beautiful poem by Mr. Mario Benedetti, the truth is that it has no comparison, I love the way he writes, how he shapes what you feel on paper. I hope you like it.
It's a pity you're not with me
when I look at the clock and it's four o'clock
and I finish the form and I think ten minutes
and I stretch my legs like every afternoon
and I do that with my shoulders to loosen my back
and I bend my fingers and I take out lies.
It's a pity you're not with me
when I look at the clock and it's five o'clock
and I'm a handle that calculates interest
or two hands that jump over forty keys
or an ear that listens as the telephone barks
or a guy who makes numbers and brings out truths.
It's a pity you're not with me
When I look at the clock and it's six o'clock.
You could come close to surprise
and tell me "How are you?" and we would stay
me with the red spot of your lips
you with the blue soot of my carbon.
From the teacher, mario benedetti.
