El Tigre del Guadarrama [English translation]

I rolled doing the croquette

by a long slope happily,

conscious that my goal

was to find death finally.

The ferns held to my chest

light obstacle to the imminent.

Just in case, at my pace and with the teeth,

I was pulling out mushrooms,

picking carefully

the most poisonous ones:

the Amanita phalloides,

the Amanita virosa.

Many times my forehead hit

the hard marbled granite

desguised with green little hat

of moss with flowers

innocent appearence

that hides quartz, mica and feldespato

I also lost a shoe.

Then, face down

I ended in the brook

"ploc, ploc, ploc",

happy federated mountaneers

were singing the resemblance of the Tirol:

"iulereiriu...".

I was blinded by the lights

that the sun puts in the back of bright red

humble dry-land fishes;

the bell of the nearest town

brought the old women together.

All the mountain brook

got in my mouth suddenly;

hanging from a rock,

a goat fish was looking at me indifferent.

I received the visit of the red kite,

of the carrion vulture

and his younger brother mr egyptian vulture

predatory in their very demanding tastes.

They dressed me in excess

thyme, sage and spanish lavender;

then in me the night came.

A sunday driver was singing a song

while he was washing his car.

Antares of Scorpii

was doing red winks to me,

the Northern Star needed me

in the cold lands.

From the fire of the heart

the weak flame was escaping,

I didn't understand why

I was sleeping in that river

without nightgown or pajama.

The Guadarrama Tiger

Slientful and slowly, slowly

Came close to me

Sniffing the wind

And he drank from the flow in my bed

In rest, softly

And then he went away, with supreme care,

Soft claws of unbound cotton

I didn't saw him

But I felt his breath.