El pintor de las mujeres-soles [English translation]

The painter of women and suns

abandoning himself with a stubborn clarity

made his last voyage, already very much alone

over the Atlantic

and was buried when he arrived.

The painter, brilliant as the moon,

with his long hair, and his beard encrusted with dust,

spit cancer from a painting

and set the date of his farewell.

And he kept on loving

even though he was not loved, perhaps, not as a human being

And he kept on learning

the path of solitude at every moment

And he left in the company of mysterious beings

with his long hair and his beard encrusted with dust,

crying out over their souls

while the pious ones made the sign of the cross.

And he had no churches,

but there were something like altars to love

among his canvases.

And in this fantastical world, he went communing

on his way to the Universe.

The painter of streaming light

inscribed his final marks

in sorrow and despair.

And left what remained to his friends,

asking them only for a wall to hang it on.