No Name (010 of 365) It fell on my lips to tell you, one day, With unsouled curls, the vile word: “Goodbye”; the cold farewell fell to me In the cold word, in the cold eye... I'm fine, though; and better would be If, in our history, there was a void Instead of pain and agony Bigger and stronger than anyone ever felt. This is life: a brief poetry That's life, after all: a thousand pains Who invade the breast, and the guiding mouth The word – “Goodbye!” – of who never left: It is made like a sea, of wild water, Who never refuses the candor of a river.