predicted a ruddy aurora hopes faded
of bare poplars.
time of the clash came, dahlias
wastage of its petals,
dismembering the embrace of lovers in his delirium
could not manage to find lips,
besieged in exile of the night,
under the yoke of grief and tears. Exiled
light of his niche site, but is not
sarmentosa
skeleton of a past tenuous,
resting on the wall of disdain insurmountable.
Oh love, how many sleepless nights have apprehended
hours of my dreams!
many perspectives
vain now mourning crepe and mourning!
Oh, love the darkness looms
on a filthy bed of agony and grief, when my eyelids
pour in the cup of your chest, damn
the symphony, the erratic ringing,
of tears falling down the loves that have died.
Dalianegra Mayte.
Painting: "The Funeral of Atala" (1808), Anne-Louis Girodet de Roussy-Trioson.
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