Three poems by Alberto López Serrano from El Salvador f or Kritya International Poetry Festival, India, its 5th day August 21st, 2020. Original language: Spanish. VVLNERANT OMNES, VLTIMA NECAT* Twenty-four horses run on your back. Some run wild, they break your ribs if the trumpet howls blowing their hips. And you thought that the feed would calm their jogging! They hit their flanks, hard, one against all. Your skin barely resists the noise of the hooves. Some have pawed soft, slow songs, and they have bitten your veins and the air on your neck while your ear dreams a surprised blue. They kick your ribs again every day. Twenty-four horses run on your back. Will none be left after the outburst? One after another, they are shelling your spine. One after another, they weigh and you fall against the floor. One after another, daily they come back and ride you, they peek at your shoulders and spit on your eyes and they drain with their tongues the kisses that you did not giv