The night is a stroll of the death among the city
That its tired and nervous sleep sleeps,
Drinking next to the untied drunks
In the dawn.
The inertia of everything does not announce a wild jazz
That it touches in bars in the way of streets
Blacks,sweated and desert.
- the wind loads for far
alone dry and the untied one of saxofone,
and the cold that I obtain brings and leads
it is a life bath that the death delivers -
In the night the death if inebriates
with drinks in the lips of prostitutes in expedient end,
As a devoid customer
That with it kisses it to affection fondles and it.
In the morning it returns to its craft
And spreads its victims who had slept calm
In its hot an lined beds.
- the deaths of the night
they had beer assassinated by the proper life .
André Espínola
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