A ballad
that we do not perish
Those who
sailed at dawn
but will
never return
left
their trace on a wave--
a shell
fell to the bottom of the sea
beautiful
as lips turned to stone
those who
walked on a sandy road
but could
not reach the shuttered windows
though
they already saw the roofs--
they have
found shelter in a bell of air
but those
who leave behind only
a room
grown cold a few books
an empty
inkwell white paper--
in truth
they have not completely died
their
whisper travels through thickets of wallpaper
their
level head still lives in the ceiling
their
paradise was made of air
of water
lime and earth an angel of wind
will
pulverize the body in its hand
they will
be
carried
over the meadows of this world
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