recognize this time.
is that it usually came disguised in the folds of other times;
which suddenly began to emerge as a dark angel the mist behind
pushing back my enchanted forests, rituals
my love, my party in indolence,
to draw only a sign in the silence,
by simply cutting the air with his hand. That
the flight looking like a crow and ghostly footsteps,
who came from afar with its mantle of travel and frosted cheeks,
and went down head back that far
I sought in vain carriage trail in the past. Time
disembodied, color
amnesia as drawn in the vacuum of mercury, like a translucent
figure sent from an altarpiece from oblivion.
What was his herald,
the background that looks to the surface of the glass,
announcing the shadows to give birth?
decipher the prophecy did not know,
that whisper of standing water that sometimes distill the twilight, I could not understand
whirlwind of gray feathers that I aspired
from clear yesterday to a vague amphitheater lit by rains and moons
there among the glaciers of unrecognizable future;
here, where now install, solid as Demon advent
its place of honor in the midst of the assembly of other times, pale, transparent,
and tells me that my woods are lights extinguished and stuffed birds,
that my love was wrong, like a mirror that provided in another mirror,
that my party is a heaven replicated in the shroud of my dead.
And will this time, without lowering his head.
No. 8 in the evening to drift (1984)
