¡Eran las cinco en todos los relojes!
The call that I awaited came
To bring the news expected,
That burns no more the living flame
Which your good life protected.
At five o'clock this morning, life
Departed, I was told,
The ordeal ended, trauma rife
In its compartment rolled.
Yet, even though the spark has ceased
The shadows keep on looming,
Your influence, which, like a feast
We heirs may keep consuming.
What you bequeath, was not a thing
Of monetary title,
As attachéd attorneys bring
Last testament's recital:
What keepsakes be assignable
We few partition up,
The paltry dregs of life lived well—
To life we raise our cup.