(To that childhood companion, always present at a distance,my river Saguia)

They say
the night takes possession
of your indigo,
violet and cobalt hues.
That, in your lap,
all the kisses of salt
dry up.

They say
the wind's sonata
takes flight
as a symphony
of crazy sounds
by astonishment

It has never known
the darts
of the snake

I will return
wrapped in a cloak
of red stars

I will return
to mend
the bitter waters

To die and be reborn
in the heart
of the Atlantic

1 Comment

1 Afric McGlinchey

A really evocative poem, Zahra and Sarah (similar names!) A translation, is, perhaps, a whole new poem. No doubt the original is also stunning, but as Valzhyna Mort once said,‘a translation is like a man - if he’s beautiful, he’s unfaithful.’ 

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