A chunk / piece / section of a life
It is probable / likely . . .
That I have seen / that I saw, one day
The collapse of the sun . . .
And got the gold that was scattered / dispersed / strewn around / sprinkled from it (or by it, or ‘its scattered [etc] gold’)
Above / over the sea’s palms [as in hand, not tree]
And closed my ribs
Around the remains of the fleeing warmth
And searched for a farewell with persistence . . . [the search or etc being described here, not the farewell; it’s an adverb]
In the piles of sand
And I crossed / measured the city . . .
Coming and going
I loitered around / in the old cafes
And sipped at/from beer bottles / bottles of beer
I met friends and visitors
And sat with writers and revolutionaries [end word rhymes with previous line]
And I spent between the crowded tables
Long hours . . .
And I ascended and descended
Streets and discussions
But I remember that I
Bought one day . . .
From the next end of the street
A mizmar . . .
And stood under a balcony
Watching the wet newspapers
And the heavy clothes . . .
I fiddle with my feet
in a little pool of water
So that I make / in order to make / making circles
that do not end . . .
And it is probable that also I;
Encountered by chance an embrace . . .
and some kisses
And I smiled at the blind seller
As I gave him the price of my socks
Then I spent the day . . .
Crossing my legs
So as to / in order to / and then seeing the cheerful colours . . .
Perhaps I gathered together one day . . .
I awoke in a warm bed
— I didn’t cough and my nose wasn’t running ––
And didn’t appear on my woollen coat
A big hole . . .
And I kept it [the coat] over my chest
With a few buttons hanging off . . .
And I was able once or twice
To manufacture a heavy cloud
On the front of a cold bottle,
And I draw with my finger
A wide sail
And a circle at the top of the cloud
And zigzagging lines . . .
And I stretched out on the wooden bench
With no back [the bench not her]
And put under my head
A pile of beautiful rubbish / a beautiful pile of rubbish
I had chosen with care . . .
And I occupied the steps of the tram . . .
For days I cannot count,
In fact I sat
A few times
On the soft leather seat,
Opened my mouth to the winds,
And stuck my head out of the window.
I preserved in my memory . . .
Like I possessed on some occasions . . .
And I gathered stars,
That filled my pockets
And coloured papers . . .
Shall I tell you?
I did in fact many things
But I definitely
Haven’t been here before
And I haven’t stumbled upon you ever . . .
If you give me
A morsel of bread
To shut up my hunger,
Then it’s probable . . .
That I will possess one day
Something for us to share out:
A charming*** meat sandwich,
A newspaper . . .
Or another scrap of bread
That will be in my nap sack