Mediu
About the time. Translation by Maria Eugenia Caseiro
How smooth the sliding of the hours
when they leave to be hours
and the time is barely
a swaying of the space. It is so
that I walk barefoot the slopes
and in the afternoon
I gaze at the first men
battle-hardened and slow
Dinosaurs of the sun
tempering the eggs of the day
so that be born the springs
so that the young children and elders
complete the circles of the year.
How smooth the sliding of the hours
when blue insects sing into the silence
that the afternoon cries
and cries
breaking down the look of the light
until the moon
devours the minutes and all the evenings
with their pantophagics teeth
with their dead looks
with their children beheaded
all in an register of innocence
while the time devises their poisons
and the first men hide behind the mountains.
To the next unfolded of the eras.
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Despre aceasta lucrare
- Autor
- Iribarren
- Tip
- Poezie
- Cuvinte
- 158
- Citire
- 1 min
- Versuri
- 28
- Actualizat
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