A necessary song


to Che not in memoriam

Your skin attached to the bone was lost on earth.

Teardrop, and remembrance poem
They are carving over fire
the song of death
gilded with machine guns from you.

And here every night it searches your books
the righteous purpose of all action.

And your memory is open to anyone who is reborn,
but you never need someone moose on an altar

And make your formative legend image
make it impossible dream catch up
and learn some of your phrases memory
to say: "I will be like him," without knowing

And pregone shamelessly,
without sleep, without love, without faith

And your words lose sense of respect
to the man born covered in your flower

Some poet said, and would be fairer,
today our duty is to defend yourself
to be God.