Dregs
This afternoon it rains, as never before; and I don't want to live, heart.
This afternoon's sweet. Why shouldn't it be?
Dressed in grace and grief; dressed like a woman.
This afternoon in Lima, it rains. And I remember
the cruel caverns of my ingratitude;
my block of ice upon her poppy
stronger than her "Don't be this way!"
My violent black flowers; and the barbaric,
atrocious stoning; and the glacial space.
And with scalding oils, the silence
of her dignity will make the final point.
So this afternoon, as never before, I go
with this owl, this heart.
And other women pass by; and seeing me so sad,
they take a little bit of you
from the steep furrow of my profound sorrow.
This afternoon it rains, it pours. And I don't
want to live, heart!
Traducido por Rebecca Seiferle
This afternoon it rains as never before; and I
don't feel like staying alive, heart.
This afternoon is sweet. Why shouldn't it be?
It's dressed in grace and sorrow, dressed like a woman.
This afternoon it's raining in Lima. And I remember
the cruel caverns of my ingratitude;
my chunk of ice on her poppy,
harsher than her 'Don't be like that.'
My violent black flowers; the savage
outrageous lashing out; and the glacial distance.
And the silence of her dignity will brand
the final period with blazing oil.
That's why this afternoon, as never before, I walk
owl-like, with such a heart.
And others go by, and seeing me so sad,
they sense a little of you
in the craggy furrows of my deep misery.
This afternoon it rains and rains. And I
don't feel like staying alive, heart.
Traducido por Sandy McKinney
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