Here you find another poem that belongs to "Book of Britain-Cuaderno de Britania". This poem was written after visiting Poet's Corner in Westminster Abbey. In this corner are buried many major English writers. One of them, T.S. Eliot. Most visitors stepped on his grave without considering the importance of his poetry at the universal level. This was very shocking to me and I decided to write this poem.
This is the dead land.
Under the arches of vanity,
between the walls raised
with time of fear of fire and iron,
between the mists of superstition,
beyond the dumb stone that everything relates,
lies a nothing wider than the sea.
In prayer it hits my chest, in the smoke
dragging the wings of incense, in the eyes
quiet for not seeing what it happens,
the nothing endures as the voice of the sea.
In the corner where life was -and the word
was word stitched to the lapel of time-
in the area where sigh the tracks with the flower of silence,
the nothing writes with ash the origin of seas.
On the tomb of T.S. Eliot a thousand steps crosses
the slab stuck in the silence. Step his name
and follow the path of the fallen heroes.
In the sea of nothingness there are no voices or names.