A Few Words About My Own Age
When Valia asks me:
“When did you put your feet on this world?”
my laugh like a single rhubarb,
under the snow of my mouth and lips brings its head out.
My laugh is a cry,
That folds up all the smiles of the world
I was Neanderthal
when I put my feet on this world.
With my own eyes
I have seen the era of all the prophets.
the procession of the disgraceful history
passed over the wrinkles of my forehead.
And yet …
the swindling offices
of the dead conscience of this age
in the book of the living beings
they have not recorded my name