Enlaces
Of what are we made?
If when looking at the dawn in the distance
between the leafy pines of fresh smell
decorating mountains, a few snowfalls
others in alive stone carved,
and to our right
a funereal, languid courtship, it crosses the street
what does shape us? What does complete us?
what we are, that I do not understand?
if when to the table of the surpluses
there are piled up complete decorated chinas
in excess without sample of proven morsel
and to the return of the corner two souls in a sorrow
they search carefully with luck for something of bread that his
bodies feed;
when to the eloquent sound of the desperate shout,
then
it continues the eternal silence
and the voice changes weeping at the end of the effort
dead he is quiet.
of awhile, they say, it will be navidad, for example
Nevertheless,
of a time to this part,
they shape your breath my bones
and
your kisses the heat of my body.
I live of our recollections. Africa.
22:46 in Madrid, 24 of a December that goes away desperate.
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