Nada sé de la muerte

I know nothing of death

I know nothing of death
I'm interested in life,
although sometimes I brush
with its outstretched hand
the strange parable
of a fallen leaf.
They are fragments of time
that insist on their task
of passing like the wind
whispering in my ear
that this endless day
collapses withered.
And even if it's just a moment
of immeasurable pain
this eager step
through the world and its oblivion,
I will pass like the bull
with fierce eyes.
I don't know another way
to claim what is mine.
Because in this way
I am a more alive man,
I smell the spring
and hear the river sing.
I only want what's ours
what is fair and due;
for that I fight
for that I was born.
I only want what's ours
what is fair and due;
for that I fight,
for that I was born.