After dark entrances will say that I go ... but I wish I had written this:
Among
walls of glass and paper , bloody sheets
sour grapes and wine ink
untranslatable , I'm picking
each night poaching some
speech, some embers
of humility or
forget that you can lose
my fight against me.
I beg to fear,
madness, the offender
heart, lest they sully
this pious land vertigo
rotten, this blurred effigy
of disdain, and let me ignore
oracles
groping to power
wrong with impunity, deserving
my own destruction.
Snatchers breads, dirty gold
angry,
glass and damn book, Deliver me
Laurel
treacherous, peace
enemy.
Who are you
who dare desecrate this inviolable
fence of slavery: the table vile
the sheet coward, trades
degraded time? What
so propitious rebellion?
never, never again. I'm just looking
the ashes of the night
helpless random trails
truncated in life without anyone.
Tomb and treasure, sleep
conspiring with me, lifting
seventy times seven
flag of fear, guilt
prey the years. Mother
first, look for me among the children
of anger blind me
chest unfair, this glass restáñame
desolate, this paper
ever written. Here
equity stands my defeat.
Defiéndame me God.
José Manuel Caballero Bonald, at 84 wings well flown.
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