Lament for Ignacio Sánchez Mejías
ngales
and being filled hless holes.
true!
Nobody sings he corner,
nobody pricks terrifies t.
not the round eyes
to see a c.
to see those men of hard voice.
t break e rivers;
ton who sing
.
to see tone.
Before th broken reins.
I to kno
for tain stripped doh.
I to s like a river
s and deep shores,
to take t looses itself
ing of the bulls.
Loses itself in the moon
bull,
loses itself in t song of fishes
and in te t of frozen smoke.
I dont to cover h handkerchiefs
t used to th he carries.
Go, Ignacio, feel not t bellowing
Sleep, fly, rest: even the sea dies!
t knoree,
nor ts in your own house.
ternoon do not know you
because you have dead forever.
tone does not know you
nor ttered.
Your silent memory does not know you
because you have died forever
tumn e snails,
misty grapes and clustered hills,
but no one o your eyes
because you have died forever.
Because you have died for ever,
like all th,
like all tten
in a heap of lifeless dogs.
Nobady kno I sing of you.
For posterity I sing of your profile and grace.
Of turity of your understanding.
Of your appetite for deataste of its mouth.
Of t gaiety.
It ime, if ever, before there is born
an A