Rock, echo, hard sand;
from the ravine runs
white-hot water: each grain
of mica in the sun, bud, shoot, stone,
sere mouth, collects dust
from the sloping screen. Gouged wound
rises to the sky, vapour today,
downpour who knows when. I lick the splashings.
A soldier crosses the street in full sunshine;
he had more patience than I have:
he dragged his uniform (step by step).
The sun was born in my heart (for a moment).
Cast down by the mother to a subaltern role,
born far from its heart saved for another.
The case (however) makes available
a fresh adventure: trees among stones
alongside the path cast shadows;
water murmurs in the hose.
Roberto Echavarren (born 1944) Uruguay
Translated by Ben Bollig
Source: Calque 5, Spring 2009
from the ravine runs
white-hot water: each grain
of mica in the sun, bud, shoot, stone,
sere mouth, collects dust
from the sloping screen. Gouged wound
rises to the sky, vapour today,
downpour who knows when. I lick the splashings.
A soldier crosses the street in full sunshine;
he had more patience than I have:
he dragged his uniform (step by step).
The sun was born in my heart (for a moment).
Cast down by the mother to a subaltern role,
born far from its heart saved for another.
The case (however) makes available
a fresh adventure: trees among stones
alongside the path cast shadows;
water murmurs in the hose.
Roberto Echavarren (born 1944) Uruguay
Translated by Ben Bollig
Source: Calque 5, Spring 2009
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