Dance of the Tender Leaves


My body trembles
Trembles with an appealing bitterness
Delight yourself smiling
In the penumbra of a dusky passage
Which confines a sad and tender tone
Slow, nostalgic burden
Drops in its bosom, drowning them,
Undertaking the silence,
But not the tranquillity
Shades of perspired wax
In a cadenced perspective
Chilled in the insubmission
To the theatrical final
As fallen and humid leaves on the floor,
Agreeing with a penalty
That the winds condemned
Awaked by disguised voices among the shadows,
Dancing around, ghosts dissembled as children
Dancing around as if they were playing
The wheel of fortune
Enclosed in the creation
Of a non-existent transparency,
We flow through the wrists,
Fearing a solemn audacity
Fragile abyss that never goes away,
Enrapturing myself
With tremulous and sprinkled puddles,
In a winter's overcast nightfall







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