Nevermore, said the crow.
But what did the crow know
about “never” and “always”?
Who knows if everything, if that was
the reason for its blackness, having glimpsed
on a night flight the axle
of the wheel that from one moment
to the next is broken
and the eternal return like an
old clock that has been stopped between eleven
and twelve for many years.

Nevermore, it said, and it didn’t need
to say it again, because soon
the “nevermore” took the place
of the crow and appeared at the window
like an accursed phrase.
And of no other do we know
so little that we confuse it
at night with the shadow of a bird.

from Vida Oculta [Hidden Life]