I? What am I? Nothing.
I am the eyes that see nothing,
the ears that don’t hear.
I think that they are cracked,
people look at me but they don’t
see me. I am also invisible.
Neither I nor they think anything
of me. Therefore these are we.
We all dream of dying beauteously.
Nothing makes us become modest
not even the view of a corpse.
Every audacious act is the deed
of an unbalanced person.
The animals are always cowards –
the time is gnawed inside
precisely like an organism
like everything whose life is
gone.
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