Far away the ballerina has
A placid stage of pure legs
But wounded dances in the dark
City squares without compassion
All squares are theaters
Silent of spectrum clapping the pain
Silent of faded stars
And she goes sliding sublime
The unloved ones cling to her neck
Went on without sighs or unexpected kisses
In its wake only the shadow of a crime
In the chaotic layers of her mind
Hide dark Medusas
Die love of present body
And born by invisible wombs
And swallows anonymous semen
Choreographed by her unspeakable own shadow
With milky and marble shoulders
She goes in the unprotected row
Where the swords of shadow penetrate her
And the shine like racehorses
Bewitch her
Because she has a stage but no dance
Because the music stopped
Because fate has left
Her name in my memory
Because her art was misunderstood
Her apotheosis was sold
And she has the delicate hands of disappointment
And it is in vain that she rises until Antares
Conquering the heat of pure night
Seeking the light there is in the eyes
No fire will sear her heart’s wound
The guilts are eternal and inoperable
In vain will seek the light
That through the cracks invades lovely bodies
She will die without music and without applause
No stage lit and no rich joy
Will die under dark sheets
Shards of fluid and shrapnel of tears
Will penetrate the shadows of the secluded days.