POSTHUMOUS FAME
The impeccable nature around us needs our death
the scarlet mouths of the flowers demand it
let spring come back only to leave us again
that we’ll remain just shadows of shadows
the bright light of the sun waits for our death
then we’ll see another triumphant dusk as this
before we leave during an April evening
just to descent into the dark kingdom down below
that only our verse may be left behind
only ten of our verses will remain
like doves to chance castaways set free
to deliver their messages of time lapsed
Libros Libertad 