Analysis of You told me; I'm a prisoner of the pronouns.

Petty condition of the human being
who must always feel prisoner of something.
Only the grave is for the free ones
sweet love of mine.

We are always slaves,
even of the false joys
and sorrows that they impose on us.

We have no other our time
but the present,
the only truth that surrounds me
plus the trees, the sky and the stars
and this love that is diluted
in amplitude of vibrations.

When I could recognize you
among a thousand faces
and you settled my steps on earth
when I only lived
listening to the rhythms of space,
sowing stars in the firmament,
pains that yesterday were born
in my soul of a poet.

In this succession of fire made words,
which is repeated in each sleepless dawn,
in nights inhabited by caresses
in each instant made absence,
where your shadow grows larger
and my hope grows weary.