Everyone asks me to jump,
that tonifies and that futbole,
run, swim and fly
Very good.
Everyone advises me to rest,
they all destine me doctors,
looking at me in a certain way.
What happens?
Everyone advises me to travel,
that comes in and that comes out, that does not travel,
that I die and that I do not die
Does not matter
All the difficulties
of my viscera surprised
by radioterribles portraits.
I disagree.
They all sting my poetry
with invincible forks
looking, no doubt, for a fly,
I'm scared.
I'm afraid of everyone,
of cold water, of death.
I am like all mortals,
unplayable
That's why in these short days
I will not take them into account,
I'm going to open up and I'm going to lock myself
with my most perfidious enemy,
Pablo Neruda.
