Madrugada

Dawn, old
and tired, pleasant.

The gods sleep soundly,
The sleep of nonexistence
In the city's extinguished eyes,
will still be seen today,
will still be recreated in memory.

But not now that dawn
is all made of exhaustion.

At the same time in the bright half of the planet,
in any corner,
in any city,
where time has no hunger or age:

He read the newspaper,
She stopped,
One of them looked.