Poems

Saguia

To that childhood companion, clearly present in the distance, my river Saguia.

 
They say [it is said] that the
night takes possession
of your indigo,
violet and cobalt tones.
That in your lap
the kisses of salt
dried up.
 
They say that
the sonata
of wind
turns into
a symphony of
chaotic notes
orquestrated [conducted?]
by terror/astonishment.
 
It does not know the darts
of the snake.
 
I will return,
 
wrapped in cloaks
of red stars
to heal the
bitter waters.
 
To die and be reborn
in the heart [lit: entrails; innermost part] of the Atlantic.