***
Lonely,
naked and diverse the man takes the first
step
of waltz to the ghastly mystery as the blood
gushing
to the silent light of the sky so that
we
should live burning as the flesh does by the moist life
throbbing painfully between remembrance and half-open eyes
on the morrow day forever unto being delayed on
a
sheet of air written with fire, the giving away
to the old memory, to the solitude under the remote
sky,
here the usual smile lies down on old customs:
the
new memory imposes other circles and ways
of
reckoning, that have the face of a naked man
who talks so he be understood: “I move forward to life,
I’m
not alone, innumerable faces of mine sharpen the light,
I
muse on stars so they shouldn’t get giddy: along with us
the noblest race of man breathes: it is gone but the sheet
remained
white and no eclipse on universe’s forehead”.
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