What are you—
a little triangle of earth
lost in the middle of the world?
What are you—
a flight of birds
guardabarrancos
cenzontles
hummingbirds?
What are you
a roar of rivers
bearing polished, shiny stones
leaving footprints of water in the mountains?
What are you—
A women’s breasts made of earth
Smooth, pointed and threatening?
What are you—
Singing of leaves in gigantic trees
Green, tangled and filled with doves?
What are you—
Pain and dust and screams in the afternoon
“screams like those of women giving birth”?
What are you—
Clenched fist and loaded gun?
What are you, Nicaragua
To cause me such pain?
Gioconda Belli (born 1948) Nicaragua
Translated by Steven F. White
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