THE WIND
The Land has an emerald windthis breeze is the voice of the willowsthese trills the voice of a shipwhose silver fishvoyage over an ocean of gadflies and yarumos.When the wind of this Land singsthe shadows arise,turtle doves speak about rainand man soaks with wordsthe bread for a new wine.SchuaimaLand where wind dances between the cypress treesraising a big skirt of leaves.What brings the breeze to her lips?What her naked words?What is it that the Eastern wind singswhen it turns like a spinsteranother small delugeand children jump like wheatwomen overflow like jarsspirits dress up with rainand the earth undresses its tree poreso that the breeze may come againand the fruit may flourish a new?
Translated by Luis Rafael Gálvez
Taken from: De Regreso a Schuaima
Winston Morales Chavarro
Winston Morales Chavarro
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario