Neither mother of Pearl’s complexion, nor locks of gold
Shall you see, like finery, adorning my frame;
neither sapphire’s light, celestial and pure,
trapped and shining, in the pit of my eyes
With the toasted skin of a sun-tanned moor,
with the dark eyes of fatal blackness,
from Ancón to dark green skirts
I was born before a sonorous Pacific sea.
I am a son of sea…because in my soul
There are, like upon waves, nights of calm,
and indefinable, nameless rages
an urgency to fight with myself,
when in recondite grief, I sink into the abyss
thinking I am only sea, cut into the shape of a man
Gaspar Octavio Hernández (1893 - 1918) Panama
Translated by Lina M. Ferreira C.-V.
Source: inTRANSLATION
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