Dialogue Between the Poet and Death (Diálogo entre el poeta y la muerte) - León Felipe

Poet- Oh, death! I know you’re already there. Please have some patience.

Death- It’s three o’clock. Shall we leave when the stars fade, the roosters crow, the first light sounds its trumpet from the mountain range and the sun opens a crimson crack between heaven and earth?

Poet- Not when you say so, nor when I want to.

I’ve come to write my testimony. When I have written my last blasphemy my pen will fall, my inkwell will break without being touched, causing ink will pour and, without you pushing it,

The door will open wide.

Then we will leave. Meanwhile...

hang your scythe with my walking stick on the coat rack

in the aisle and sit down... sit down and wait!

From Ganarás La Luz