Who Are You?
Who are you
walking on the sharp edge of my poems
splitting the music in two
just to fit in it
raising a disproportional flag
on the sphere of a life that doesn’t belong to you?
Who are you
you
who has known the fresh leaf
under the sun of long ago
who has breathed such darkness
for your future?
You never gave me yourself
and I shall never give myself to you
since nothing could have been given to me
even if it existed.
So many water wells, so many days —
why they never got filled?
Such beauty, so many traps —
how did they escape me?
How can’t I
assimilate to a beautiful lie
in the years of my hours
and I’m in danger in a world I don’t know
like a pregnant epoch that lurks for me.
Libros Libertad 