|Christmas Comet Lovejoy|
Escrituras de luz embisten la sombra, más prodigiosas que meteoros.
Sure of my life and death, I observe the ambitious
Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.
They speak of humanity.
My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of that same poverty.
My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,
the willow grove's visible prayer as evening falls.
Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.
My name is someone and anyone.
I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn't expect to arrive.
Paso con lentitud, como quien viene de tan lejos que no espera llegar.