Get away from me, death, you will be my hemlock,
because you will silence my words
and you will sink the life into darkness,
the night will live without the day.
Get away, you will made my soul yours
and with desire burn my bed,
because you will jealously remember the moon
who was my love when you love her.
Get away, you will make my poems a memory
which probably will be lost
between the tombstones of those who are dead.
Get away, you have already finish
with that soul that was free as the wind
that one day thought that could get away from you.
Signed: Olmedo’s Knight
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