Every day I fight not to turn into a monster.
I look for the nereid among the rubble
that originated the estuaries of pessimism.
From Plato to Bocas de Ceniza,
you will always see me on the shores of the Caribbean.
THE KHARISIRI
THE WHISTLER
High-pitched sound driven by air
invade the silence and break the darkness:
fright arises, the hairs stand on end.
The night glows with darkness.
Whistle that breaks the music theory,
a wanderer creeps away
between the sheets of mist
proclaims the arrival of death.
His whistle is born as the fruit of pain,
scream of assassin, groan of parricide.
Cursed by their ancestors
he carries the skeleton of his parent.
He wanders on the plains on rainy days,
he walks through the plain in times of drought;
while he rests, a bark frightens him:
his dog Tureco follows him until the end of the days.
The whistle penetrates the ears and instills cold,
persecutes pregnant women and drunken people.
It is long and ungainly like a sickle.
He walks with his head downcast.
He wears a hat that covers his shame.
He has a bag that curves his back.
He faces a penalty that consumes him.
He has a pain that condemns him.
If the whistle is heard nearby,
do not fear because the whistler is far away.
If the whistle is heard far away,
the whistler is upon you.
He persecutes drunken people and womanizers.
He sucks the navel of the drunken people
to drink their schnapps.
He destroys the womanizers.
He does not rest.
When he allows himself to rest
counting the skeleton of his creator,
Tureco's howl terrifies him.
He skins the innocent people
and collect the bones
along with the remains of his architect.
If you are a walker, have your own dog.
The whistle is premonition of death.
Take care of those who walk
by the plains of Guanarito
or through the plains of Cojedes and Barinas.
THE WIDOW
I got married with excessive love on a full moon.