Niño de carne amarilla
y de pupilas alertas
como un cervatillo herido
huyendo de selva en selva.
En tu país Nochemala
¿dónde está la Nochebuena?
Los asesinos del cielo
cantan en Vietnam la guerra.
Tu Belén es la muerte,
la soledad y la tristeza.
Desnudo y huérfano estás
llorándole a las estrellas
mientras los hombres que matan
celebran la Nochebuena.
[III,164]
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