Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Solo en un banquillo mirand o a un go rrión   Racimos trémulos de desnudas soledades, estéril desierto de pensativa escarcha, tu vida sin recuerdos. El otoño no quiere mirar tus ojos pues estás muerto.   Eres brisa triste  entre los narcisos.

  Madness O weeping muse                         you make me fall into a thick misty river; the tundra where my poems gather. …Madness enters with the wind; the jolt of a wild animal thrashing from a spasm, his eyes seek mine. O my first dead, which winter squall carries my disordered pages, the shroud of tears we will inhabit, the grave where all spit their epitaphs?