By PORFIRIO SALAZAR TRANSLATED BY DEMETRIO FÁBREGA DUST EPITAPH ELEGY OF OBLIVION Here, being among pieces of extermination, dimensions of words bitten by silence, ripped by anxiousness, forgiven by an always, I decipher what I did and was. Like eyes of snow looking for me, like a radiant specter watching us, I look for myself in all the hidden deaths and I get lost in the lost yesterday. Here, wings of death, I spit this murmur that will drown in a sea of other murmurs. Here I burn among the screams in the world I invented. 64 Because I am dust, wandering and old love, because I was a warrior that lost his tracks, I shiver here among wrinkled dreams, living without wanting, silencing this anguish in the bars of skin which will live to tell that I have died and am reborn. Like a spasmodic trembling hand, like an arm of dew in the morning, I touch myself as I my hand could be the anxiety, as if those hands were no longer mine. I kiss the roses and the myrtle in my garden, and once again I find my very own life. Like a gust of wind I breath myself. Like a timetable that hurts us I spread myself among anguish I return like oblivion in the lost yesterday.