Dad, I've read poems about me in those first days, and they give me the best nourishment a baby can get. It is not easy to raise a rebellious girl, and we often turn our backs on it. Especially in recent years, every first month of the year, there is almost a noise. When I turned my face away and cursed, I couldn't bear to see tears creeping up your half-hundred face. But I have no choice, it's hard to prove to you that I no longer belong to you. We have shared so many secrets, yours, and mine. I can't imagine how I would have spent the last few decades of my life without this man, without someone wise and beloved to talk to, someone who understood and comforted me to depend on. There is no one more humorous and generous than you, to me! Only you know my emotions and my perception of them, we are so similar!
However, sometimes we go in the opposite direction. You always tell me when autumn comes. And I, for sure, is your favorite cat under your lap. You lead me into the temple of language, listen to the whispers of the temple, and tell me that this is the world. I woke up from my dream, and life gradually showed me the unexpected face of my father's poems, the cynical face that could not be seen directly, while I thought that life and the future should have a gentle face, like a lover by candlelight. Dad, my whole life is changing, every day. I am like a girl walking barefoot in a field of thorns. I know that my father is behind me, but I insist on moving forward. If I don't move forward, what reason is there to live? You said that if at any time I was disturbed by having such a father, and immediately disappeared in front of me, how cruel you are, only when I was panicked and frightened did I realize that you were old! In front of me the undressed old ugliness appeared. At these times, gloomy words are about to fill the page. We were the best father and daughter in the world...
When the world I face forces me to complicate things, many times my conscience is disturbed by witnessing your heart-wrenching purity. I understand that even if I spend the rest of my time writing poetry, it will not surpass your purity and detachment. You are eternal, just as God is eternal. In this lifetime we are destined to meet and are given the same eyes, nose and mouth to observe, breathe and admire. I crossed you like Diana crossed the Moon River. Many times I felt that the bus driver was you, a puppy was you, and a log was you. The poetry is you, the music is you, the luster of the metal is you. At these times I know that you are with me.
Dad, I pray for your happiness.
Con Te
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