CAPRICORN Poem by Juan Manuel Roca

December and its red alcohols
Have brought to my window not a fuzz of oblivion.
Now I have
Such a desire to inhabit
the idiots' white and slimy territories
Such a desire to be a beggar in Nepal
A bead stringer in Ancient Guatemala
Such a desire to lay amidst the grass.
I think in the best men of my country
Those who have gambled their skin
In the brinks and borders of the abyss
At this hour in which the jails
Are better inhabited than the clean dancehalls.
The flies that buzz into my dream
Or over the white paper
Where they draw up a mysterious calligraphy
Don't call upon mild landscapes.
December and its red alcohols
Haven't brought to my window not a fuzz of oblivion.