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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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