Romance infâme de la Mort Marraine & le Soleil

Death Godmother walks among the oxidized pears of the afternoon
her silhouette is svelte, and is benighted under the white of the day
and she wears a robe purchased at "El Corte Inglés".


Sun observes her from his zodiacal structure, and smiles with fat benignancy
his rays bathe the black robe of La Parca in blond theodicy
and he wears a soutane, like a magician, or a cura párroco.


Invisible for the man, la Mort Marraine looks at Sun with one glassy eye
and blows a breeze of -oh, so ephemeral!- life on the seminarists' faces
and smiles with rotting teeth of wood at the temporal human misery



I hear someone screaming my name
and it's myself, and the voice rebounds on the americanized sidewalk
"Bless me Father for I have sinned. Bless me, bless me"
and I disappear from that bone color theatre, if I even exist.



Death Godmother walks, self-gratulatory, among this rage of today
her elegant figure is focused by one million spotlights, like a super actor
and she wears the skin of  St. Martin of Tours like a cape.


Sun observes her from the telestial observatories, municipalist and obese
his shafts illume the black Muerte with mammiferous goodness
and he wears a toga of yogurt, like a Portuguese feiticeiro, or a sapient bachelor.