Last night, little fly
I begged you
I begged you while going for the last time
To the bathroom
I begged you while peeing and brushing my teeth:
Little fly - was my chant for you-
Don´t waste your black stamina
The music of your fine Rolls Royce engine.
This electric light is not worth it.
Theses phony suns, this great billboard of luminous
Pigmy heads of incandescent glass
Looking at the arena of the looking glass,
Are not real stars in a square constellation
Reflecting in the pond you like to walk by
Gracious, stubborn fly.
¿How many times did I switch off
And cheered for you to escape from this dungeon
of soap, shampoo and white fresh towels?
I swear. I saw you flying off enticed for the last light in the hall
Free, arrogant, little contentious perfect thing
Toward the real light of the night
To rest.
This morning I found you.
Your perfect body, you, the finest machine
You my beloved little Spitfire
Motionless, dead, crusty perfection
In silence.
Now I´m burying you as humans do;
I´m giving you a watery funeral.
¡Go peacefully with the Ganges toilet flush
To another place!
The heaven of flies. Go to a place
With no phony suns, with no footlights
To rest and mischief all day long
And eat these delightful delicacies
I don´t like and make me sick
With all the flies that have ever been
Since the beginning of time
And from time to time stop by
And tell me how that heaven is.
