I
ODYSSEUS
Sing to me beautiful Circe
Now
that Penelope has died;
Sing
of the secret routes that you protect
The
uncertainty of knowing I am a warrior between your
thighs.
Sing
in my ear the song you used to sing to bewitch
me
In which
I
was blind to the verdure of many skies
The close walk in my own Labyrinth.
Sing,
Witch od death,
Of
the woods,
Beautiful
nymph of the river
Ciphered
clue of your breast
Your wilted petal
Over
the outpouring glass of my bifurcated body.
Awaken
from the trips' heavy dreams
Penelope
has left also for the night
And I
stand alone like a butcher in mid tree,
Sad
like a worm going
around the fruit.
WINSTON MORALES CHAVARRO
Translation:
Luis Rafael Gálvez
