Los días que uno tras otro son la vida.
—Aurelio Arturo

The tremulous shadow already covers you.
Only oblivion exists,
Bare,
Cold uninhabited heart.

And hours are already nothing in you,
The taciturn hours that are your life
No even as occult ashes
Brought
By the transparent
Silences of a recollection.

Nothing. Twilight does not cover you
Nor does the afternoon fills you with travels,
Or the night disturb your obstinate
Nostalgia of love, when
A tacit damsel surges from the shadows.

Oh heart, uninhabited sky of dreams.