Where the footsteps of oblivion remain

I live in a free country
and I gather the cracks in the foundation, I hide them.
As punishment for living and not living in sanity
now I can show you the passages of oblivion,
now I can continue reliving the postcards,
gathering the days, the event granted to memory
like a diffuse street traveled by dust.
From the cracks arises the holocaust,
a member that hides,
exhausts the destiny in which it is born, without asking for anything
it offers to be my clothing, to discover the pavement,
to be free only after being so,
after living in a country bitten by shadows,
and without being the little or almost little
I hear the barbarity, the ancestors,
the stubbornness of the breath mocked in glories,
and if this were little or almost nothing
sanity, its existence, is endangered.