One Asks You
Since I was born
and it was not yesterday
my days are numberedby whom
and we are never sure
of not being mistakenLet us live since we have to
and live to die
one day or anotherwhich day
we are never certain
of not being mistakenIt is the hour of sleep
and it is a manner of talking
it is perhaps the one of dyingwho knows
and we are never sure
of not being mistaken--1953