حين أموت ، فلتدعوا الشرفة مفتوحة - Federico García Lorca

A confused labyrinth
of smoky stars
entangles my hopes,
which are nearly faded

Porque tú crees que el tiempo cura y que las paredes tapan, y no es verdad, no es verdad.

Everyone understands the pain that accompanies death,
but genuine pain doesn't live in the spirit,
nor in the air, nor in our lives,
nor on these terraces of billowing smoke.
The genuine pain that keeps everything awake
is a tiny, infinite burn
on the innocent eyes of other systems.