I want to build a truth in my heart

the one that for years I have been looking for

at those moments when I patiently accompany

my embraces.

 

Against the murder completed

when the red of the sky

becomes mauve and then black

so that you can’t distinguish it

from the chimneys

of those blackened factories.

 

Against this suddenly forged dominates

the rhythms and symbols

like the horrible breath of poverty

like the haze-looking faces

on imprints and recollections.

 

Following the glance of pleasure

the edges of the black clouds

are rolling beyond the sun

leaving it free

and we know well that

it is not a coincidence we are swimming

in muddy water-holes.

 

Because there are sayings go beyond a reading

circulate inside us as blood

with a tide of will and imagination

as transparent as our gazes into infinity.