PECHOUSE a noite riba do ucedo
                                             i eu non vin einda a cor da miña amiga.
                                             Agora é cando ún treme e ten medo.

                                                                           /

                                             ISTE desacougo! Este cousa! Esta mao xorda que tira!
                                             Iste querer irse sin saber para onde!

                                                                           /

                                             AGORA o meu cor é unha chaga encendida.
                                             Unha mao loba anda escalazándome a ferida.

                                                                           /

                                             ESTA door que se oi!
                                             Iste cor meu!
                                             Esta door que me veo ela de seu
                                             Sin saber polo que foi!

                                                                           /

                                             FOI coma se caira nunha cova.
                                             Antes era noite i era día
                                             Agora é todo unha negrura loba.


                                                                                          1953