agosto 7, 2007
Alberto Dualib
To Thomas Stearns, with love.
In my dreams I dreamed
of Alberto Dualib.
Above our heads the shrine,
myriads, angels and gargoyles.
Then I asked friends and brothas
"won't you talk a word to him?"
and all of them answered me
"No! No! No!
I do not care
fool's gold in Uruguay
neither broken associates,
but when Alberto cross away
other death's Kingdom plain
will his breath stay at last
or shall his bones rest in vain?"
Did Ingmar bet with Fate
cups of wine in a silver plate
or shall his memory die in dust,
screen of misery at the end?
I wish I dreamed Liv Ullmann's armpit,
myriads, angels, gargoyles: Halellujah.
