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Poetry

My words verge on silence
like great birds that disappear
into the early evening: their
strenuous white wings
carry off the intense sweetness
of dusk, visible then
in starlight.

My words turn toward the night
with no look back
at what is lost or won, or
what is missing, like those workers,
who, utterly fatigued
by a long day, return home
so the household once again can rest
and the strength that comes
with morning be restored.

Translated from the Spanish by Kathleen Weaver


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