Maybe this thing about living
Consists of dressing up as a weather vane and turning
According to what wind
And celebrating the triumph
Of strategies about expiration
Of feeling
And to crown the peaks
More resplendent where the eagle
She is an expert in mountaineering
And to speculate with honor
As the most just cause s precious
Of the best cynicism...
Calm down, heart, calm down, heart, you know well
That the only reason I still assume
Is the inappropriate unreason
Of love and love and love...
And only love,
The rest is smoke.
Let them invade
The voids left by the saints
Concerned that they occupied the altars,
Let them defend chance
As a principle against causality
From chance,
Let their bellies reach
With the fruit they ate, insatiably,
In other gardens...
Let them raise podiums for themselves
On the marble that buries
Their resume of the dead
Look at them killing themselves with
More subtle weapons in order to get
With a medal,
That persist in their efforts
To think that only with fortune and power
They will measure up,
Let them make windmill blades
Let them defend the giant
Against the air of dreams,
Let them produce armed monsters
For reasons that they never admit
That life is a dream.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS