Trees of flesh growing to towering heights

From the writhing surface

Of death's murky swamp

When old men and ugly women collapse

And lie exposed on death's shores,

Their wicked contours disappear

With all the stiffness of life,

And their corpses transform

Into brilliantly shining men

The sterile beauty of these virgins,

These fragrant fruits of death,

Embody the fecundity of the land,

And their beautiful chests and abdomens

Where death breathes in heavy gasps

Lie freely like the fields,

For they are the earth of the sixth day

That brings forth life

You and I, meanwhile, are nothing

But stemless flowers

Growing from the swamp of the flesh

Translated by Jeffrey Angles