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(Translated by Ron Hudson and Humberto Garza)
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The Daughter of Rimbaud
The girl of the open dress
rises on the hour
in
which words are of celebration
for she herself is a celebration
when she stretches her thigh to the ground
and the
wind blows over her
with its infinite fingers
A tricycle of crystal awaits her
with the flowers of the patio
and
a nest of blind butterflies
undresses between its bones of honey
And in her bed of blue plumes
she hangs her braids
of wheat
and counts her dead bees
until remaining asleep
while the evening envelopes her
with its yellow lips
The
daughter of the open dress
awakens on the hour
in which the clocks dream
because she herself is a dream
when she
opens her dress
and the sparrows flock
crazy with love
above her paper-white breasts
Further from the Guitar
to Víctor Jara
Further from
the guitar
are the separate hands of the homeland
a sound of wings that burns
and scorches my shoes
an invitation
to urinate on the ground
with the pure seed of the singing
Further from the guitar
the blood sketches violent music
and
the head of the singer fills itself with holes
and with kisses smelling of death
Further from the guitar
the roads
cry
the rain weeps and falls on its knees
because the son of the earth
will not complete his passage
Further from
the guitar
further from the discharge
that stopped the hearts
further from this poem
and with the unforgettable
wound
the eyes search for Victor
further from the guitar
and from the homeland
Memories
of the Future
My sister awoke me very early
that morning and said to
me
“Get up, you must come and see this
the sea has filled itself with stars”
Marveled by this revelation
I
dressed myself hastily and thought
“If the sea has filled itself with stars
I must take the first plane
and
gather all the fishes of the sky”
Translated by Ron Hudson and Humberto Garza
Copyright @ Mario Meléndez, 2004
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