We present this work in honor of the 50th anniversary of the poet’s death.
The night splintered into stars
watching me dazzled
the air hurls hate
its face embellished with music.
We will go soon
ancestor of my smile
the world is emaciated
and there is a lock but no keys
and there is terror but not tears.
What will I do with myself?
Because to You I owe what I am
But I have no tomorrow
Because to You I…
The night suffers.