MAN
Mashiaj is my
Shepherd
There's nothing I
need
The fruit will overflow, the leaves, the
weathercocks.
The
spheres that transit the ethers
The
poem that grows quietly
In
the permissive and forbidden tree of the night
Mashiaj is my Shepherd
There's nothing I need
I
shall harvest from all things around the world
The
songs, the ravines,
the
shores
I
will rest my back
On
the stones of the desert
I
will contemplate the obstreperous flight of the rivers
Over
the mantle chiaro-oscuro of the valleys
In
times when life becomes scarce
And
Satan will rise like a hymn from the card-deck
Mashiaj shall provide the
freshness
I
will walk naked through the cosmos
Like
one more star of Infinity
Like
a comet on the luminous mantle of death
And
fame and defeat will come
Like
two sisters, daughters of Calliope
And I
will not fear them
Nor
will I run away from them
Because my breast
Streaming down like water is
theirs
And
theirs is my palate
That
savors the fall
Mashiaj is my Shepherd
There
is nothing I need
The
three days of darkness
Will make me reflect on the
shadows
The minuscule ants from the
desert
Will
not gnaw one iota from the air
The
destruction of the cities
Will
not darken the daily blooming
Of
the rains and the stars
And
the light will come with its veils and dances
Maybe
my blindness will be nourished by these songs
And
my sword, will be nourished by their hair
Breaking the chasm toward the
Promised Land.
Winston Morales
Chavarro
English translation:
Luis Rafael Gálvez
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