Oh, what blind joy
What hunger to use up
the air that we breathe,
the mouth, the eye, the hand.
What biting itch
to spend absolutely all of ourselves
in one single burst of laughter.
Oh, this impudent, insulting death
that assassinates us from afar,
over the pleasure that we take in dying

for a cup of tea ...

for a faint caress.

:: Josè Gorostiza