TRISTES
PRESENTIMIENTOS DE LO
QUE HA DE ACONTECER
Sad
presentiments of what must come to be -
On my knees - behind me nightmares dwell -
I lead the congregations of the dead who pray
On death's cold rim, the lucid edge of hell
I
spread my hands to gather in the ghosts
That are to come - I see them in the dark,
Draft appearing outlines of disfigured hosts,
The savage soldiers and their butcher work
In
darkness, then by tallow candlelight
I see, have seen, and will see more again
Because my eyes like Paul's achieve new sight -
I also hear the snapping of the guns
Like
fingers of a lord who beckons slaves
And then by magic servants digs their graves
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