Elegía / José Barroeta


While death exists I will live in song,
wandering in a wave of desperate music. In the winter,
in any season, there are so many who have died for me.

I always want to leave life without bitterness,
to leave it as I’ve seen it. The hope night gives me,
maybe the obsession of being dead, have prevented me from burying myself,
from flying over the thread of my solar soul.

I would like to dress myself with the color of death,
carry the rigorous fantasy within. Love a pale woman with
wings like nothing else.

My desire is not to flee from life but to fix it within what
snatches it away. This light today covers nothing and only the cadaver’s dream
invites us to travel.

Todos han muerto (1971)

{ José Barroeta, Todos han muerto: Poesía completa (1971-2006), Barcelona: Editorial Candaya, 2006 }

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