Calendar
it’s right to forget about March
so that April can finally arrive
to lie beneath this January shade
so that the abyss of June can disappear
whose face is this behind the ivy?
pale and white the moon’s ether light
lay above the lilies of absence and chimera
still they remain, the grasses of September
and the azaleas of afternoon
and the latitudes of silence
it’s not death I search for, amiga,
when the breeze brings your words
when you offer me the scent of your skin
and the Milky Way is suddenly reborn
calmly among the meadow’s wild roses
or when you open the immense petals
of your clear and bright smile (a lily?)
to the night of my being
About this poem
| Author | Narlan Matos |
|---|---|
| Translator | Michael Palmer |
| Language | English |
| Translated | 2012 |
This translation has not yet appeared in print and is reproduced with permission.