1. Rico killed him
So much expensive evidence, dust
Let us believe that death is inevitable,
We slowed down and lowered our voices.
Walk through a series of slow tombstones
Rhetoric of their shadows and marble
Promising or foretelling longing.
Be the glory of the dead.
The gray grave is beautiful,
Poor Latin and Doomsday Lock,
The intersection of marble and flowers,
A clearing as cool as a courtyard.
Countless yesterdays in history.
Now it is stagnant and stands out.
We confuse this peace with death.
And believe that we are eager to end ourselves
Although only eager for sleep and indifference.
Trembling with knives and passion,
Sleeping in ivy,
Only life exists,
Space and time are its contours,
It's a tool of psychic magic,
When life disappears,
Space, time and death follow,
Like the end of light.
The phantom in the mirror disappeared.
It has long been eclipsed by dusk.
The soft shadows of trees,
A breeze with birds swaying branches,
Lost in the souls of other souls,
Sometimes their disappearance is a miracle,
An incredible miracle,
Despite the imaginary regeneration
Terror defiled our days.
I met him in Rico and thought about it all.
Where are my ashes?
2. Strange streets
The ghost of a pigeon
This is what the Hebrews call the beginning of the night.
At the moment, the shadow did not stop.
The coming of night was detected.
Like an expected music,
Not as a symbol of our irrelevance.
At that time, the light was dim as sand.
My footsteps met a street I didn't know,
Sail to that noble and broad platform,
Displayed between eaves and walls.
Soft colors are like the sky itself.
Shocking background.
Everything-the sincerity and mediocrity of simple houses,
The banter of short columns and knockers,
The balcony may be a girl's hope-
Go deep into my empty heart
With a drop of water clear.
Maybe this is the only time.
Add streets by magic,
Give her gentle privileges,
Make it as real as a legend or a poem;
There is no doubt that I feel it is approaching in the distance.
As if remembering, it was exhausted.
Just because it comes from the depths of the soul.
Affectionate and unforgettable
This is the miracle of the bright street.
But only in the future
I realized that that place had nothing to do with me,
Every room is a candlestick.
All living things burn lonely flames on candlesticks,
Every step we take without thinking.
They are all stepping on other people's golgotha.
(1) golgotha (golgotha) legend for the execution ground of ancient Jews, a.
On a mountain northwest of Jerusalem. The gospel of the new testament
Saying that Jesus was crucified and died there.
3. Epitaph
To my great grandfather, Colonel Isidoro Suarez.
He bravely crossed the Andes.
He fought the mountains and the army.
Heroism endures forever, and his sword has become accustomed to it.
In Hu Ning, he brought a happy ending to the battle.
Peruvian spears were dyed red with Spanish blood.
He wrote a meritorious photo album.
This article is as firm as a trumpet playing a battle song.
He died in ruthless exile.
Now he is a pool of dust and glory.
Step 4: Courtyard
night falls
Two or three colors in the yard are tired.
The great sincerity of the full moon
It no longer excites the sky it is used to.
Courtyard, the river of the sky.
The yard is a slope.
It is the passage for people to flow from the sky to the house.
Silence,
Eternity waits at the fork in the road of the stars.
How wonderful it is to live in this dark friendship.
At the door, between the vine and the reservoir.
5. Empty living room
As always, mahogany furniture
Continue in the hesitation of brocade
They talk forever.
Yinpan photography
Deceive them in their secluded old age in the mirror
This wrong method
They went into hiding under our surveillance.
For example, a vague chronology
A futile date.
In a vague way
Their anxious voices are almost real.
Chasing our souls
More than half a century behind.
At present, it can hardly catch up.
The first light of our childhood.
An unchanging reality
Convincing, ruddy in blood
Celebrate the traffic on the street.
It is deified in today's world.
It's indestructible and complete.
At the same time, light
But through the cracks in the glass window
Beat the old armchair
Trapped and strangled
Those ancestors
A shriveled sound.
6. rosas
In the quiet hall
Simple clocks are decentralized.
There are no accidents or surprises.
It covers a pitiful pallor.
Like a shroud wrapped in mahogany red passion,
A warm, resentful voice
Announced this familiar and frightening name.
The image of a tyrant
Filled with this moment,
Not as clear as the marble statues in the forest,
But huge and dark.
Like the twilight of a distant mountain.
Conjecture and memory
Take over a vague conversation
Like an unfathomable echo.
Be famous for its notoriety
His name once turned the market into a desert,
Used to be Gaucho's idol worship.
And the horror of piercing history.
Now that forgetting has erased his death list,
Because his crime is not finished yet.
If we compare them with the evil of time—
This tireless immortality
Eliminate race with silent negligence.
It will never heal the wound.
Stopped all the bleeding
The last god will stop the blood of the end there.
Maybe rosas.
Just a greedy dagger, as our ancestors asserted;
I believe he is as good as you and me.
Insert an accident into many events.
Live in fear every day.
Worried about luck and punishment
Personnel are impermanent
Now the sea is a water barrier.
Between his body and his father's land,
Now everyone alive, no matter how sad.
Will crush his nothingness and night.
God may have forgotten him.
An insult is better than a sympathy.
This is a hate charity.
To delay his infinite disappearance.
7. be ashamed of all the deaths
Without memory and hope,
Infinite, abstract, almost belongs to the future.
The dead are not dead: that's death.
Like a mysterious God,
They denied that he had any characteristics,
The victim is missing.
Just the fall and absence of the world.
We took everything from it,
Don't leave it a color, a syllable,
This is the courtyard where his eyes no longer look,
That's the sidewalk it wants to spy on.
Even our thoughts.
Maybe it's what it thinks;
We carved it up like thieves.
The amazing wealth of night and day.
8. Inscriptions on all tombstones
Don't let reckless marble
Chatting on, risking forgetting everything.
Endless memories
Name, reputation, event, birthplace.
So many glass gems are best judged by darkness.
People are silent, marble doesn't need to talk.
The essence of lost life
Trembling hope,
The merciless miracle of sadness and the surprise of material desire
It will last forever.
An overbearing soul blindly pursues eternal life.
At this time, he was guaranteed in other lives.
At this time, you are the person who has never lived.
A concrete continuation of the people of your time.
Others will be your immortality on earth.
9. sunset glow
Sunsets are always disturbing.
Whether it's flashy or rich or poor,
But what is even more disturbing is that.
This is the last flash of despair
It rusts vilen.
There is no room on the horizon at present.
The noise and conceit of the sunset.
How difficult it is to capture this tense and strange light,
This is an illusion, a unanimous fear of darkness.
Impose on space
Suddenly it stopped.
When we realize its falsehood.
Like a broken dream.
When the dreamer knows that he is dreaming.
10. Dawn
A deep and universal night
Almost never denied by a pale lantern.
A gust of wind that disappears at night.
Invaded the silent street.
Tremors indicate
Terrible dawn, lingering.
Like a wandering lie
The desolate suburbs of this world.
Fall in love with this comfortable darkness
Afraid of the threat of dawn
Once again, it feels like Schopenhauer.
With Becker's amazing guess,
It claims that the world
It's a spiritual activity,
The big dream of the soul,
No foundation, no purpose, no ability.
Since I think
Not as eternal as marble.
But as fresh as a forest or a river,
So the previous speculation
At dawn, it appears in another form,
Superstition at this time
Like vines in the light
When the screen wall is about to be entangled,
Hand over my reason.
And described the following fantasy:
If everything lacks substance,
If Buenos Aires, with its large population,
It is complex enough to be compared with an army.
But this is just a dream.
By the magic of the soul,
Then there was a moment.
Its existence is in danger of chaos and disorder.
This is the moment when the dawn trembles,
At this time, there are not many people who dream of the world.
Only a few night owls have been preserved.
The streets are almost gray.
An image without an outline.
They will confirm with others later.
The eternal dream of life at this moment
In danger of collapse,
God will be easily destroyed at this moment.
All his works!
But the world saved itself again.
The light overflowed and formed a dirty color.
With a certain sense of guilt
Regret my companions who come back to life every day.
I look for my house,
It is shocking and cold in the big white sky.
Meanwhile, a bird doesn't want to remain silent.
And the fading night
Stay in the eyes of the blind.
1 1.
Worse than a brothel.
The butcher shop in the street flaunted its signboard like an insult.
Above the gate
The head of a blind cow
Overlooking the witch's midnight party
Look at those skinned breasts and the last marble.
With the distant majesty of idols.
12. Ordinary
To Edie Langer
The grating gate of the garden opened.
Obedience is like a sheet.
Frequent habits and query pages
Once inside, our eyes are clear.
There's no need to look at those
What is certain in memory.
I am familiar with habits and thoughts.
And that argot jargon
Everyone is knitting them;
I don't need to talk.
You don't have to pretend to be privileged;
People around me are familiar with me,
They know all my worries and weaknesses.
This is the highest gain.
God may give us:
No wonder there was no victory.
It's simply acceptance.
As part of the undeniable reality,
Like those rocks and plants.
13. respectively
It will stand between me and my lover.
Three hundred long nights are like three hundred high walls.
The sea will become a magical land among us.
The cruel hand of time will tear.
Streets that sting my chest like thorns.
There will be nothing but memories.
Oh, the dusk given by sadness,
Eager to see your night,
Depressed vilen, desolate sky.
Be humiliated in the depths of the pool
Like a falling angel.
Your life adds luster to my yearning.
And desolate and happy streets.
Today shines the light of my love ...)
Like a statue, everything is decided.
Vilen would be even sadder without you.