PALMERA PALM
Pedro Serrano trans. Anna Crowe
Let the bird of lowdest lay
On the sole arabian tree,
Herauld sad and trumpet be.

Palmo a palmo se abrasa,
en cada vuelta recorriendo
el pulso y la vida.

Fiero torno de asfixia,
de mutiladas placas,
minuciosa intemperie.

Enhiesta en descampado,
lamina la columna del cuerpo,
aprieta el alma y la huella.

A sí misma envolviéndose,
inhala, como un imploro,
un ansia demudada.

Nudo de luz al fin,
haz rotundo de manos,
alza su exclamación.

Fuego esmeralda,
las palmas extendidas,
hincha de sol sus alas.

Se escapa en alto estruendo,
blanquecina, calcinada,
ave pura de amor.




Inch by inch it burns,
with every turn surveying
strength and life.

Fierce wheel of suffocation,
of maimed scales,
merciless exposure.

Upright and in the open,
it plates the body’s column,
squeezes soul and treads it down.

Wrapping self up in self,
it breathes, like a beseeching,
an altered anguish.

A knot of light at last,
a round cluster of hands,
it raises its cry.

Emerald fire,
palms outstretched,
it lets sun swell its wings.

It escapes with high-pitched clamour,
whitish, calcined,
immaculate bird of love.

Orig. copyright © Pedro Serrano 2005; trans. copyright © Anna Crowe 2005


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