I have a love for the old spices,
Their scent reverberates in the hard
Heart, like the aroma of strong death.
Life emerges to create the delusions
So wrongful and complete.
I must complete my life,
Open the doors to childhood.
It is sacred and sweet,
Wonderful and obtuse.
The feeling for a heaven is tiring
My senses every other day,
For the hitting of suns and Jupiters
Creates craters of the unknown.
Inside this cosmos is your cruelty,
Far-reaching and offending,
Letters of the unlettered seem
Presentable to the galaxy,
Still one letter is good as ten.
When do secret doors open and close?
Why do they shut with rapidity?
I am feeling the abject sky
On the hitting of stars,
Onwards is the trail of the meteor.
I may be the last witness
Of a painful living life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem