Poema (hombre Que Mira Al Cielo)

As the shooting star passes by
I gather in this instant desire,
heaps of deep and prioritized wishes.
For example, may pain not extinguish my anger,
may joy not disarm my love,
may the people's murderers swallow
their molars, canines, and incisors
and wisely bite their livers.
May the cell bars
turn to sugar or bend with mercy,
and my brothers can once again
make love and revolution.
When we face the relentless mirror
may we not curse or be cursed.
May the righteous move forward,
even if they are imperfect and wounded.
May they advance stubbornly like beavers,
solidary like bees, fierce like jaguars.
And wield all their no's to establish the great
affirmation.
May death lose its disgusting punctuality.
When the heart leaves the chest
may it find its way back.
May death lose its disgusting and brutal
punctuality,
but if it arrives on time, may it not catch us dead
with shame.
May the air become breathable and for all.
And may you, young girl, continue joyful and in pain,
putting your soul in your eyes.
And place your hand in mine, and nothing more.
Because the sky is once again gloomy and starless.
With helicopters and without God.