I’m not in peace.
If I were in peace
That would be like
To say that you lie
To the right side
Of my pillow,
And when I look
Out of the corner
Of my eye
To see
If has been
Personified
Your body
Only and all alone
I found
Nothingness.
My poems
They can’t have music.
The music is
Melodious harmony
And the spirit of what I say
It is full with fogs
Of melancholy.
The longing
Floats in me
Privately
As if were
Radioactive cloud,
Traveling
From where formerly
Were greening the land
According to the canon
Of Aaron stick.
What it was
Hanging gardens
Today they are
A desert
Pigsty,
A prairie without life,
Sterile abandoned wasteland
To devastating vultures,
Coyotes and asp vipers
They crowd in my contour.
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