The lie that we lived
was our daily bread.
Men of the twenty-first century,
you must know
what we did not know
in order to see pro and con
because we did not see it,
and that you do not eat
the food of deceit
that fed us in our time.

It was the communicative century
of uncommunication:
cables under the sea
were real at times
when the lie came
to have greater latitude
and longitude than the ocean:
the languages became used to
beautifying the false,
to suggesting threats,
and the long tongues of the cable
coiled up as serpents,
the colossal lie,
until all of us became involved
in the battle of the lie;
and while we were running
we were lying,
and we came out lying to kill,
and we arrive lying to die.

We used to lie with friends
in sadness or in silence
and the enemy lied to us
with his mouth full of hate.

It was the frozen age of war.

The tranquil age of hate.

A man from time to time
burned the soul of Vietnam.

And God, stuck in his hiding place
spying as a spider
the distant country people
who with sleepy passion
fell in adultery.