Death will come and will have your eyes

Death will come and will have your eyes --
this death that accompanies us
from morning till evening, unsleeping,
deaf, like an old remorse
or an absurd vice. Your eyes
will be a useless word,
a suppressed cry, a silence.
That's what you see each morning
when alone with yourself you lean
toward the mirror. O precious hope,
that day we too will know
that you are life and you are nohthingness.

Death has a look for everyone.
Death will come and will have your eyes.
It will like renouncing a vice,
like seeing a dead face,
reappear in the mirror,
like listening to a lip that's shut.
We'll go down into the maelstorm mute.