Memory of black weddings.

Of Carlos Borges the poet.
I present the eloquent story.
the black weddings that in my memory
my inspiration wakes up.

The funny thing is this
that an old gravedigger from the region
He was talking about a bad luck lover.
that leaves your terrace
how the poet writes
Every night I went to the cemetery.
to visit the tomb of the beautiful;
that people murmured with mystery:
"He is a dead man who escaped from the well."

I was intrigued by this curious story.
he continued telling the poet
that the gravedigger tells him
of other incredible things:
The lover, on a horrible night, broke pieces.
the marble of the abandoned tomb,
He dug the earth and carried it in his arms.
The rigid skeleton of his beloved.

And there, in his sad and gloomy room,
of a funeral candle the uncertain flame
He sat next to the cold skeleton,
and he celebrated his wedding with the dead woman.
The horrible mouth covered her with kisses.
the rigid skull crowned with flowers,
tied his bare bones with tape,
and he said smiling his love.
He took the bride to the spongy thalamus,
he lay down beside him in love,
and he fell asleep forever
The rigid skeleton embraced.

They have left me the black weddings
deep roots in my memory
that a man in love
it is for the story.