Outsider

Let me start by translating this poem from the recently deceased Asturian poet Ángel González:
Anniversary of love
How will I be
once I am no longer me?
once time
has modified my structure,
and my body is another,
another my blood,
other my eyes and another my hair.
I will think of you, maybe.
Probably,
my succesive bodies
—prolonging me, alive, towards death—
will be passing on [...]