The poet\'s soul
speaks to the dead dog.
The coffin cup is empty
and life smells fever .
By the moonlight
a blue fly burns its lips .
\'\' Are you poet this solitude
of a thousand souls ?
- The one of the old child ?
- Of the flickle lover who flew away ?
- And this inspired parody that mocks the crowd ?
- \'\' I am an empty crime scene
concealed in a dark halleyway of the heart ,
and I cry behind the silent door ! \'\'
- I am drunkenness, madness and bliss ,
and also this secret fire
which flows like evil lava ! \'\'
- \'\' a june snowstorm that arrives
too late for a december rendezvous ! \'\'
The poet\'s soul dones its ceremonial attires
and join the procession .
Distradectedly greeting
a few specters from happier times .
It lays down a bouquet
of concrete flowers on the tomb .
Returning home ,it will smile
at the sight of this bare rope ,
like a set of jewels
around the neck of a beauty .
It\'s time to walk the dog .
for eternity ...