Marks of Time

by Coral Bracho

Between wind and dark,
between a rush of joy
yet deepest calm,
between my lovely white dress flying
and the dark, dark hole of the mine,
are my father's eyes, so gentle, waiting; his dancing
happiness. I go to meet him. This is a land
of little stars, of pyrite crystals,
wherever it's touched by the sunset. Clouds
of quartz, and flint, up high. His bright gaze,
all-embracing,
has the warmth of amber.
He lifts me up into his arms. He comes in close.
Our one shadow drifts over to the edge of the mine. He puts me down.
He gives me his hand.
The whole way down
is just one joy, in silence:
one dark warmth,
one richness, aglow.
Something in that quietness holds us under its wing, it protects
and uplifts us,
very softly,
as we go down.

The literal translation of this poem was made by Tom Boll

The final translated version of the poem is by Katherine Pierpoint

Notes

From La voluntad del ámbar (1998)

Comments

  1. March 27th, 2011 at 3:12 am

    Carmen says:

    Why "wherever it is touched by the sunset"? In Spanish it definitely means "the sun sets on it". Simpler, loyal to the original version, more beautiful. The rest I do like!