Return of the Emigre
…I see kneeling people
as though praying.
—My old friend, don’t you hear me?
Little by little you will get used to it
your house is the one you see
and this door your friends
will come and knock to
welcome you back tenderly.
—Why is your voice so distant?
Raise your head a bit that
I may understand you
as you speak you gradually
grow smaller as though
you sink into the ground.
—My old friend, think a while
little by little you’ll get used to it
your nostalgia has created
an nonexistent country, with laws
beyond the earth and people.
—I can not hear anything anymore
my last friend has sunk
strange how often enough
everything around here sinks
here thousands of scythe chariots
run and mow everything down.
Libros Libertad 