Lithos
A lithos I strike on a stone
to spark a spark
to light a fire and add
an inch on the leg
of the limping man who
after he admires
the ridiculous turn of this earth
and after he immortalizes it
on the canvas of his retinas
this fire will become a conflagration
to burn the unequal world
when from the bottom of the lake
I pull mud and place it
in the limping man’s palms
he alone, who in deficiency exists,
will mould the perfect universe
from the beginning people concerns
and beasts he’ll create
women with hair loosened
in the afternoon breeze he’ll form
unforgettable sunsets he’ll paint
him, the limping man will grace
all eyes with benevolence when
I’ll give him summer wine
I’ll enthrone him on the clouds
pure and mature and loosened
and after inebriation settles in
revengeful and spiteful
to justify the cry
Good Lord, have mercy on us
don’t drink again
Libros Libertad 