When the sky bays its weight loudly like a closet

On the germinating spirit at the price of long enemies,

And the horizon embraces the whole circle,

Relaying us one black day sadder than nights;

When the Earth is changed under a damp concealment

Where hope, as a slice of lemon

Goes to battle the walls of his timid sickness

And knows the heads to these diving boards;

When the rain lances its immense trainees

From one vast prison imitating barrels,

And a silent people of infamous arraignments

Carry tenderly its filets to the beginning of this crevice;

Clocks suddenly salute with fury

And hurtle towards the sky an affected pitching

Such that those errant spirits without patriotism

Bring to their gender something opinionated.

—And of long billiard cues, without tambourines or music

Slowly defiling in my soul: Hope

Conquered, flows, and the atrocious Anguish, despotized,

On my spine is inclined to plant its black curtains.