The sweepers

-Luis Mario Vivanco

Professor of Language Centre ITAM

When it expires weary night
With his broom stick
Sweep the sweepers the streets
of heavy silence, of sinister smile;
sweep the sweepers
and they carry the moon
and also carry the stars.

The sweepers go
Pushing their orange carts
Where they deposited fatigue yesterday,
The illusion or the memory
of those who did not sleep for your patience;
collected from the parks passion
who was full of kisses,
the looks that tried to escape
looking down
but who still browse through puddles;
collected the words too,
curses, promises,
everyday phrases that are used once and
They end up in the battered floor;
collect tears, wishes,
complete sentences,
laughter, worries, coughing of sick
and all those steps we leave on the sidewalks.

For this their cars weigh both,
For this her broom stick
scratch so hard asphalt,
and only then
they achieve sweep so much filth
and also take the shadows
For that we see
how light arrives and the day is done.