LATE GLORIES

The steps of the altar are cold as they go up,

Your laurels have the weight of dead leaves

The prize they give you is the currency

of a debt that time has never paid off.

Late glories don't warm you up.

Late glories are already cold

The same world that ignores you

erects statues to your absence

The same ground that didn't keep your footprints

Now sculpts you in granite,

Late glories don't warm

are candles lit in closed coffins

The same wind that erased your voice

now spreads it over loudspeakers

The queue at the wake is longer

than at your concerts in empty bars

Watching time pass by

Late glories don't warm you up.

Late glories are already cold

The same world that ignores you

erects statues to your absence

Your poems, rejected by 17 publishers,

Now they're"unknown masterpieces"

How people love others

With tears that dry before burial

Watching time pass by

Late glories don't warm you up.

Late glories are already cold

The same world that ignores you

erects statues to your absence