Who will impede
That my tears sweep
The layer of humus
That surrounds the empty
Planet of my heart?
If when you crossed,
As a fireball
Through Tunguska,
The thinnest films
Of my chest,
You didn’t left
Any foundation
Neither pillar
Neither fountain.
Without columns neither walls
I showed up as a present
In front of the manifestation
Of the ideal
That you represented
When the present
It was yesterday.
Today
In my chest it has broken
The pitcher
Container of the waters
And they are my eyes
The sluices for where it sprouts
All my illusion
And their magic
Sweeping
The layer of humus
That it covers the empty
Planet of my heart.
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