When I Die
I’ll die during a melancholy April dawn
when a rose will shyly bloom in my pot
a little new life — and my lips will close
and my eyes will close automatically, silently.
I’ll die during a dawn grieving like my life
its freshness like a consoling tear flowing
to the holy ground that will adorn my joy with roses
the holy ground that will become my death bed.
What I loved in my life will scatter
vanish far away like summer clouds
only who loved me will come to say goodbye
and they will kiss me like pale moon rays.
I’ll die during a melancholy April dawn
my last breath will come to let you know
the love you felt will become foggy candle,
poor memory, forgetfulness in my grave.
Libros Libertad 