Friday, January 22, 2010

Vicente Gerbasi

The eyes of the owl
closed on the plain
of death
in the solitude
of horses
that die
looking at a star's path.
The eyes of the owl
closed watching the window
with one eye
on a squirrel
and another on the lightning.
The eyes of the owl
saw a horse
come into my house
forced to abandon
the plains,
the horse of an alley
in Paris
with its cart
full of cabbage.
The owl hid
in a chamber
of sadness,
in the poverty of the world
he saw his final shirt.
He put it on his father
who still loves him.
The owl
Juan Sanchez Palaez
deteriorated by skeletons.

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