Hay mucho mal en el mundo.
Ella está, quizás, ya entre nosotros.
Mario Goloboff.
Endless times in which man dissolves
his body and drinks the innocent blood of the unnoticed.
There is a lot of evil on the continents,
perhaps it is already huddled among us,
in the rooms, a bottle of wine,
in the writing bureau?
The sands carry the pain of the ship that spilled
hundreds of bodies on the Libyan shores,
the fish receive the guilt of the Mediterranean
making way for the cruise ships of Europe
and African songs in the rumor of the Middle East.
Young Latinos in avenues and parks waiting for signs,
perfect noise of the Olympic Games in Rio de Janeiro.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
