Like a beautiful day in May
that with a kiss from the wind
and a caress from a ray of sun,
it extinguishes on the horizon
so I, with a kiss from a rhyme,
a caress of poetry
climb up the extreme summit
ofm y existence.
The sphere that proceeds
for each human fate
here it is already bringing me near
to the hour of death
and perhaps before my last
strophe is finished
the executioner will announce to me
the finish of my life.
So be it. Strophe, ultimate goddess!
still you give to your poet
the brilliant idea
the flame familiar
I, to you, while you gush vividly
from my heart,
will offer for a rhyme
the ice cold breath of a man about to die.
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