El Resto Es Humo

It may be that living
Consists of disguising oneself as a weather vane and spinning
According to what wind

And celebrating the triumph
Of strategies over the expiration
Of feeling

And crowning the most dazzling peaks
Where the eagle
Is an expert in mountaineering

And speculating with honor
As the most precious just cause
Of the best cynicism

Calm down, heart, calm down, heart, you know well
That the only reason I still assume
Is the inappropriate nonsense
Of loving and loving and loving
And only loving
The rest is smoke

Let them invade
The voids left by the saints
Worried that they occupied the altars

Let them defend chance
As a principle against the causality
Of the hazards

Let the bellies arrive
With the fruit they ate, insatiably
In other orchards

Let them raise podiums for themselves
On the marble that buries
Their curriculum of the dead

Watch them kill each other with the most subtle weapons
In order to win
A medal

Let them persist in their effort
To think that only with luck and power
Will they measure up

Let them manufacture windmill blades
Let them defend the giant
Against the air of dreams

Let them produce monsters armed
With reasons that never admit
That life is a dream