Fruits ripen in the rain
Horses neigh in the barnyard
One-armed Paco runs up to say
that the buzz of bees
will scrape the sky
Every mule going by
is splattered to its neck in mud
Hens shit in the cornfield
One-armed Paco brings us
a fresh bundle of cane
Brother we are sweating
while we plunge down these roots
see the pitirre bird in the top of the palm
If tonight someone invites us
to hear stories of witchcraft
what shall we say?
— That the night will be green by the light of coconut palms.
Translated from the Spanish by Kathleen Weaver.
On the chair a favorite book a dirty shirt
a glass full of noise and thirst
or a beach where dolphins of smoke
Its wood has rested my bones
international politics love
I’m sick of traveling
In this room which the Queen of England has never visited
in this room which groans like a lurching boat
while morning wind lashes the black spires of churches
I feel only dust ground down by light
Chair of silence of joy of dark wood
where every night my soul is burnt to ash
under the blind stare of the electric bulb.
Translated by Kathleen Weaver