Kites wake up on your temples
And you write to yourself with school letter.
With almost thirty years in your sleeve
you read again your book of dreams.
You lost your calligraphic skill,
the lie gave to you its blow of cane,
your ideals face to the wall.
Recite your lesson, Captain Thunder,
Rider on a rocking horse:
Sigrid divorced your past,
Crispín got lost in the way,
Goliath lives in exile under the ground.
You started the war of work,
Nude of protective armor,
riding, winner, on the sidewalks.
The adventure wakes up from time to time
And you put to sea,
You walk on the beaches of the doubt,
and hang your shirt on the clothes hanger.
On the distant comet of the ant.
(From "Cemetery of sparrows")