Today I did not get anything, I’m full of nerves.
The blade is a mirror in which I see your face.
My pencil stands out above the mirror
and an unfinished verse disliked and deleted.
Today I did not get nothing. And I look at the walls
and on all the walls I find drawn;
and your face move when my eyes move
and though I close my eyes, your face will not go away.
Today I do not get anything because of loving,
to express it because I cannot find the words.
Today I did not get nothing. Sometimes
the muses do not come, they stay at home.
Today I did not get anything because you’re around,
because everywhere your face appears,
and my invisible pen writes poems
soundless noise with your ghost verses.