As long as the gaze arises  
Like a metronome    
On the beach of our solitude  
And that you utter some peroration    
Like a drunken boat in search of the right direction    
Survive the man on the finger of God    
Haranguing the piano under the colored butterflies    
From a score written to the merit of blood.        
 
So it would be tough and generous
The answer to the question
That no member of the family can decipher :    
" Me and the others are the guides    
On the edge of Knowledge    
And no one should appear in this state    
Without the clothes of clouds the trees of the forest    
With vanilla scents. "        
 
Then on an ordinary weekday morning       
As the rooster crowed    
Erasing the complaints of the night    
The Great Form rose athwartly    
Soon followed by a scream    
The cry of the cursed skies    
That the gesticulants in white dawn    
Tried to circumscribe the coastline.        
 
 
969