What kind of soup did my father love as a child,
did he finish his food,
what did he hide under the big pillow,
which was the word he fell asleep on,
did he get really scared by the bombings.
I will never learn this,
my homeland is irretrievably lost.
The air is so lonely,
that I hear clearly the timetable of the bus station
and the siren of the harbor embraces me.
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