Minitopography of Santa Isabel


The tired afternoon fell
upon a rhythm of palm
dressed in spring
human in dispersed voice. 
Up(wards), the moon round (in)
its silver &, in love, 
spins its round thanks
-between the courtship of harnesses
yawing starry light- 
by the gothic cypresses
that raise a peal.


Rivers of joy full of the exact
by this Stradivarius of only souls:
trampoline that launches us from the pole
of artifice to pristine contact
with the virgin & compact [persuasive argument or physical movement, like trasladar]
of naked Africa... Protocol 
of baskets & tiny tables [mesillas], [clots/lumps/blood], deceit,
yucca & solemn fraternity in the act
of emptying and filling [oneself]... between the laughter
drawing coins without currency. 
Rain of aged sun on the backs.

You must [hay que] lean out, by the skin of the day, 
onto that open custom/habit in merchandise:
a life running through the skirts.


Album of doves
that comes to coo
the sister couple
that sleeps in/of the sea. 
The air in the trees
starts to play
at being mime & comb,
kiss & madrigal.
Light. Calm. Silence.
Waves nothing more.
... & the two sisters,
wives of the sea.

(November 1967)


You say my destiny when I die, 
one afternoon, beside the virgin fountain, 
to the edge
of the last memory...
I aspire that you say:
«Your life was a stone
like the song to the lark. Exactly.
You left it the same as the strange [ajena]
& the spark jumped-flint- 
of a hollow smile,
withering/marcid from the core of yourself.
It offered you firm life on a platter
of your friendship, full, yes, to the borders.
You had to tell it: "This is heavy",
& your hands gave out, beneath the bulk,
to the attraction of the earth.»
«Take my life -it said to you- beneath the meat of my easy smile.» 
So/then it was your life a dry leaf
in the arms of the wind...

You will also say: «On your shoulders the friendly heads tripped with ribs/edge/awn/chaff
of fierceness...»

Later you'll fling me
-like a stone- 
to the center of oblivion/forgetfulness.
& I will stay fulfilling the sentence/condemnation:
I will die standing like the trees.
I will leave planted in the earth
this  opaque that I am.

& i will stay standing,
                                           like a stone.

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Comments (1)


What about the rhymes that the original poems have? You’ve lost them allmost all. Can it be concidered adequate translations?

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