I Was Thinking of You, Lunatic
Advance, advance further, Ludovico,
towards the dung heap of dreams,
advance like a lunatic amid the night
with no idea where you’re headed nor to what time.
I was thinking of you, lunatic, in these nights
of love and disgrace
where eight refrigerators were singing
the solitude of beer.
I don’t know which is the art
of singing the miseries of the Aurora
nor the art made in silence
for the splendors of death.
All I know is that I live
between two manifested solitudes
and one that accompanies me
like a ray of gold in the shadows.
4-30-79
{ Ludovico Silva, Piedras y campanas, Caracas/Bogotá: Editorial Rayuela/Editorial Pluma, 1979 }
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