I write now

when the exhaustion has not yet bitten,

when my muscles are strong

and my eyes shine for the verse.



I write now

that the capitalism has not fallen

and the dinosaur of the cold war

chews without teeth

an olive branch.



I write

in every moment I write

still when the words slip

and abysses will open in the verse .



I write

on suns that explode

inside and outside of the viscera.

The parietal lymph advances in waves

and shakes my sternum

to later

sink me in my barefoot dreams.



I learn

to take forces from the death

and to find forgetfulness in love.



Now

a purple snake

of long eyelashes

seductive looks,

drinks the alveolus of the day

and prepares

the distant stars of the morning.



© Gocho Bersolari

Translation: Maria Eugenia Caseiro