I miss you in the evenings, when I laugh,
my laughter resounds, but there is an emptiness.
In the kitchen the aroma of garlic,
memories of times when I still work.
I miss you in the dishes I fill with love,
the taste dilutes in the cobblestone shadow,
each spoonful, an echo, a fervour,
and time stretches like a fragile jasmine.
I don't need the moon, nor the song of destiny,
to remember your embrace, your laughter on the road.
It is in every crop, in every seasoning,
where your essence blooms, its faint song.
I miss you, my love, in a subtle way,
in the moments lived, in a civil gesture.
Even if the dawn does not break and the sun turns away,
I find you in the notes that the soul feels and laughs.
It's not the visions that invade my sleep,
nor the silent nights, so full of commitment.
I miss you in the air, in the twist of the wind,
in every corner of this port, my breath.