Rough hands - Poem in Pablo Alfonso's voice

Emilio Carlos Tacconi is the poet whose poems I have translated today and share.
He was born in the capital of Uruguay (Montevideo) on 11/13/1895 and died in that same city of Montevideo on 11/26/1988. He is considered the poet of peace and tenderness.
Emilio Carlos Tacconi was the poet of peace and tenderness. He the one with the rough hands that flourished in verses and harmonies. The same one that Montero López celebrated by expressing: "This brief Tacconi, of discreet / interior excess, giant inside, / the bird and the flower he carries in his scepter. / What grace does not love and respect him?"
After more than ninety-five years in which he sowed trills and honey, Tacconi could not live the separation from his noble wife to whom he said: «With you and love... Always with you.( ) The dream was our best friend./You were the tomorrow, I tomorrow./ Yesterday he fell asleep on our shutter/ and today he woke up with a gray head.
Tacconi has just embarked on his last flight. Under his grass his tired feet will remain, but like in the voice of the cypress above, among the birds, at the top of the canopy, dreaming, always dreaming, he will flutter his butterfly.