Poema 2 [English translation]

In its mortal flame, the light envelops you.

Absorbed, pale mourner, thus situated

against the old helixes of the twilight

that revolves around you.

Silent, my friend,

alone in this solitary hour of deaths

and filled with the lives of fire,

pure heiress of a day destroyed.

A cluster from the sun falls on your dark dress.

At night the large roots

unexpectedly grow from your soul,

and the things hidden inside you return to the surface,

so that a pale and blue village

newly born from you is nurtured.

Oh, magnificent, and fertile, and alluring slave,

from the circle that in black and gold follows:

proud, she tries and achieves a creation so alive

that her flowers succumb, and she is full of sadness.