I saw much blood spilled.
The dreams sprawled lifeless in the fields.
Nobody consoled the stars nor begged for forgiveness.
One mouth alone cried: “Death, Death”. Cowardice was its shield.
But then words came, arriving from all over.
In the square, they quickened the dream. Joy, brotherhood.
I saw a man stand up from among the dead:
“You deserve what you dream”. He said.
And the stars sewed up the mouth of the one who cried: “Death, Death”.

Translated by Constante Lardas.