An Owl Inside the Closet

by Luis Ullán
(Salamanca, Spain)

There is an owl inside the closet
of the deaf, young melody.

As a sad, cold ballad,
dance a waltz sweet death,
dance the bird with its wings
hidden while it rains,
hidden while it sings.

Flies the bird of the Hades
in a span of grass and stone;
an ode to the latest solitude,
covered in bloodhound winged bones.

There is an owl inside the closet
and darkness is coming along.

There is an owl inside the closet.
Now we will dance no more.