The old man leaves life and death behind
Head plumb, he follows the course and never, never more
The large mirror that is the world would dare reflect his signs
The old man is the king of the animals
The loneliness is now solid, a stone in the sun
The lines of destiny in the hands the hand extinguished
He already has his soul saturated with poetry, soul, and rock'n'roll
The things migrate and he serves as a lighthouse
The flesh, the art blazes, the evening falls
In the chasm1 of the corners
The light breeze brings the shimmering2 smell
Of the sex of the girls
Cold light, his hairs have the sadness of neon
Beauties, pains and joys pass without a sound
I see the old man laughing on a curve of the road of Hebron3
And upon his gaze everything that is color changes its tone
The children, movies, sayings, books like a wind gale
Disperse him beyond the illusion of his personal being
But he hurts and shines alone, individual, wonder without equal
Now he has the courage to know that he is immortal
1. also abyss2. fulgaz from fulgor3. Palestinian city