(translated by Joseph Mulligan,
courtesy of Wesleyan University Press)
3 Poems from TRILCE,
Oh the four walls of the cell.
Ah the four whitening walls
that irrefutably face the same number.
Breading ground of nerves, evil breach,
through its four corners how it snaps
apart daily shackled extremities.
Loving keeper of innumerable keys,
if you were here, if you could see
unto what hour these walls are four.
Against them we’d be with you, just the two,
more two than ever. And you wouldn’t even cry,
Ah the four walls of the cell.
Meanwhile as for those that hurt me, most
the two lengthy ones that tonight
have something of mothers who now
deceased each lead through bromined slides,
a child by the hand.
And only will I keep my hold,
with my right hand, that makes do for both,
upraised, in search of a tertiary arm
that must pupilate, between my where and when,
this stunted adulthood of man.
Coils the sun does in your cool hand
and cautiously spill into our curiosity.
Quiet you. Nobody knows you’re in me
all throughout Quiet you Don’t breathe Nobody
knows my succulent snack of unity:
legion of obscurities, Amazonians in tears.
Off go the wagons whippt through evening,
and between them mine, facing back, at the fatal
reins of your fingers.
Your hands and my hands reciprocal offer
poles on guard, practicing depressions
and temples and sides.
You too be quiet, Oh future twilight, pull yourself
together to laugh inwardly, at this rut
of red pepper gamecocks,
blinged out with cupola
blades, with cerulean widow halves.
Rejoice orphan; drink your cup of water
at the bodega on any corner whatsoever.
It hails so hard, as if to remind me
and increase the pearls
I’ve gathered from the same snout
of every tempest.
May this rain not dry up.
At least allow me now
to fall for her, or be buried
soaked in water
that will surge from all the fires.
How far until this rain will hit me?
I’m afraid of being left with one side dry;
afraid that she may leave, without having tasted me
in the droughts of incredible vocal chords,
to reach harmony,
one must always arise—never descend!
Don’t we in fact arise downward?
Rain, sing, on the coast still without a sea!