Copihue Poetry

We check into a hotel that is converted
From an old building, not knowing its past
The wind from the courtyard still passes on time
From the depth of the house, like undying souls
The paralyzed dog in the hallway does not bark
Perhaps it recognizes one of us
Nothing is hidden behind the wooden door
“Who has then removed
Our right of discovering history and truth”
After a laugh, we see a man sitting
In the dark
And the calm on his face
As if thoughts cut short at the twilight hour
It comes to me there must have been another dispirited face
Behind this one, as he turns around
And finds someone with a lamp, holding
A knife, ropes, and poison
Then a fog and a fine scent permeate the air, no need
To sulk, sunlight still shines through the little wooden window
And soon after, the cockscombs are going to bloom
In a bleak place behind us because there reigns
The world of grass and trees