I go
going down the hill
To my little field
With a haunted blue sky
Some grudge against summer I also carry
I am foolish in the face of summer
I'm lonely and hopeless
I cut the thick air with my sharp body
I draw back the curtain: this stone is for me
The stone that Vallejo nested
I sat like a clairvoyant and saw nothing
I raised my hands like a magician and there was no dew
I tried to levitate and blow things up and nothing went up
I thought hard about the rain dance, I danced
and just a few drops fell
I will wait for sunflowers to be born in my hands
The gardener works hard
Even without water, he fulfills his ineluctable duty as a human being
The poet does not hate
even though he screams
I will go down the hill
Down in the city the question is debated
This morning death took his first client on his tour with no destination
And life has given birth to twins
I'll keep moving forward, I'm not alone
I'll arrange my summer affairs
And as I sing my sonorous ribs with the ancient song
I'll slap ridicule
I'll make myself bright like van Gogh's thousand sunflowers
Of yellow ignition against the shadow that attacks.