The Eternal Dice
(For Spanish translation click here)

My God, I am weeping for the being I’m living;

I am sorry to have taken your bread;

but this wretched thinking dough

is not a crust leavened in your side,

you don’t have Marias who are departing!

My God, if you had been man,

today you would know how to be God,

but you, you’ve been always fine,

you feel nothing of your creation.

And the man oh yes is suffering you: the God is him!

Today, that there are candles in my magic eyes,

like in a condemned man,

my God, you will light all your lights,

and we will play with the old die . . .

Perhaps, oh player! in bringing the good luck

of the entire universe,

the ringside eyes of Death will turn up,

like two grim aces of mud.

My God, in this still, dark night

you can’t play anymore, because the Earth

is already a die worn and smoothed out at the edges

from rolling by chance,

that can only stop in a space,

in the space of an immense sepulcher.