The Letter
a bird was chirping
like they sing a lullaby to a baby
and the golden ring was blessed by
and those who count my dreams
in the taste of the week’s bread
they cut the thread in two
games of love and lust?
How far from us are the rivers?
we safeguard the house well
with lances and swords
and the plane trees of beautiful ships
stir in the morning like kisses
and while it is still Sunday
on your moon-like hair: forests of jasmines
our primeval sin goes down
to the sarcasm of the cheeks’ absence
the mouth has these echoes
the manly blood has that smell
sign of tenderness in the foggy glance:
come, let us tell the truth to the children
what our hand touches
under the sky of our other motherland
is the blessed wheat and the caress
opened by the spring of love
it is love that entraps the night
pours stars in the secret bosom
that throws away the pebbles (the dry wood pieces)
so that you’ll never find the road too long
we shall pass with partridges on our side
with a song like a bloomed rose
we shall always share a pillow
and from the same palm, we shall always drink water
Libros Libertad 