Poezie

At times

Translation by Maria Eugenia Caseiro

1 min lectură·8 decembrie 2004

Mediu

At times

the afternoon is an enormous bee

that flies absent minded,

lazy

with its bulky womb.

Bee, silent and lonely

falling toward the night.

At times

the animal of the twilight moves its head

and sinks its snout between my legs

and pursues the girls in the street

and in the farm

and in the banks of the rivers

with its disguise of enormous and imploring man.

The afternoon advances as a boat

without oars and without hull,

without silences, without children,

without clocks without griefs.

Simply advances

toward the catastrophe of the light

toward the explosions of the shadow.

Other times

fall the padlocks of the hours

when the wolves forget its howls.

The twilight in the meantime hardens

and wears boots of steel to the night

at times

a bee dies and a sparkle

interns in the entrails of the air.

My nostalgia is a dish

that eats hot the morning

with its teeth of light.

Gocho Bersolari

003.181

Iribarren. “At times.” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/iribarren/poezie/97423/at-times

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