THE BOULEVARD OF ABSENCES
Hardly risen, the raw ambiguity of the night,
Blue roads where dwarfish spells are lurking,
Without charm, mystery and hope,
Pains whose skirts are carefully washed,
Sometimes the soul knows
How beautiful the untouchable
Death can be,
The steam of the snowed up offerings, the violet petals of the plum trees,
Today each one rises in front of my eyes,
Always gleaming strangely,
Drowned in the amber of patience,
Another season is coming that I shall not see,
Red tornados and huge clouds in the Marian Islands,
Only the thin tear of the lentil
And a morning with sand steps.
Libros Libertad 