Ad hoc para esta noche

Ahi les va un poema. Es sobre la pintura the starry night de Vincent Van Gogh.

That does not keep me from having a terrible need of -- shall I say the word -- religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars.--
Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother

The Starry Night
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life
with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.

Anne Sexton