Tide
A fruitless power leads you against
the familiar flow of the waves and
as the horror of the inconspicuous grave
ties down your little corsairs from a distance
this is the sorrowful abjection of your ardor.
The erotic song of your songs
the anger of your froth diamond
the joy of submission to the powerful
who pass over stepping on you. Your
fate’s great and doubtlessly invincible
bow your beautiful head before it.
Your strength, blossoms that crown
the unjust wreath of your victors
chosen by fate to defeat you.
Libros Libertad 