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Funeral of a Friend


Candelabra in my grief

The friend lying down in his old custom of dying,

he doesn’t see anymore,

he doesn’t hear anymore,

integrated to his bones

when everything changes with the night.

He’s surrounded by files of women,

Heavenly light,

where eternity devours us.




[From Retumba como un sótano del cielo (Rumblings like a cellar from the sky), 1977, by Vecente Gerbasi ((June 2, 1913 in Canaobo, Carabobo - December 28, 1992, Caracas). Translated by Ron Rodriguez, 2009.]