CUANDO MI CARNE SE MUERA

WHEN MY FLESH DIES ONE DAY

When my flesh dies one day,

and his trembling legs fall to the ground,

and its bright star goes out

Will revive my spirit,

more live than never

and his generous sisella will continue to fly.

When my light one day needs to go out

will revive my shadow

and she will walk safely, with her head held high;

Present history will be made.

When my sun turns to dust,

His footprints will resurrect,

I am sure that

Its brightness will be like that of new stars.

A poet does not die

because when he leaves

his poetry has

an incalculable eternal brilliance.

Author: Edith Elvira Colqui Rojas-Peru-All rights reserved