FIRST REFLECTION

... this ruin of my life, this exterminating blow of angels and roses,
This event has penetrated my chest and filled my blood with havoc
and the speech of heaven besieges me, shakes me, and hurts me;
... I don't want to exaggerate how loneliness is while being instructed,
or how the nonsense of time comes and invades the shoulders,
his arms, waist, and feet stealthily, as he pulls on the madman's couch
because there are no more birds left to go through the window and the damage is great:
an unknown and uncontrolled constellation of axes and bodies, stridencies and orders;
I know it's a moment of minimal virtue and of very little man,
a skirmish of wolves caged by and in my own cold;
Sé but I also know that this ruin of mine will pass, though to that resurrection
no one is summoned and the wolves howl at me hour by hour, day by day and year by year
by the tense and icy veins of the heart;
… I, I believe in the life of my besieged bones;
Where if I don't build what I hope for?
Where and how, if not, freedom?
***
Antonio Justel Rodriguex
https: //www.oiondepanhoseas
***