Stop all the clocks

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin... let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead, S
cribbling on the sky the message: He is Dead.
Put crepe bows 'round the necks of public doves,
Let traffic policemen wear black, cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East, my West.
My working week and my Sunday rest.
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

[Hago esta breve introducción con este poema de W.H. Auden, empleado también en una película, sin querer alarmar a nadie (a pesar de ser mi elegía favorita, junto con el "Dem Andenken Petöfis" de Franz Liszt, al piano, claro). Nunca llegó a formar parte de nuestras vidas, pero sí que ha resultado un enorme bajón el no ver, hecho una bolita, a nuestro "Azofaifa/ManuelaMalasaña/como se fuera a llamar" porque todavía no habíamos terminado de ponernos de acuerdo. I'm just not in the mood.]