Los Enigmas

I, who am the one singing now
Will be tomorrow the mysterious, the dead,
The inhabitant of a magical and deserted
Orb without before or after or when.
So affirms the mystic. I believe
Myself unworthy of Hell or Glory,
But I predict nothing. Our story
Changes like Proteus' forms.
What wandering labyrinth, what whiteness
Blind with brilliance will be my fate,
When I face the end of this adventure
The curious experience of death?
I want to drink its crystalline Forgetfulness,
To be forever; but not to have been.