POEMAS CON BICHOS XXVI -
CON TERNEROS DE FEEDLOTS
POEMS WITH BUGS XXVI -
WITH CALVES IN FEEDLOTS
Patricia Severintrans. Brian Cole
Huérfanos
engordando sin verde
en un cuatro x cuatro
de barro y alambrado

Tienen marcada en la hoja del patrón
día y hora
- como nosotros
no lo saben -

Viven hacinado sin poder elegir

"La disciplina de corral", dice Catela,
"es para todos."



Nunca podrá mi dedo permanecer incorrupto
como el de Santa Teresa de Avila

mi dedo acusa

el universo hacia el fondo del sur
es torpe delicia que ve pasar la pena

Orphans
eating grass
in a 4 x 4
of clay and fence-wire.

They have, noted on the boss's pad,
the day and the hour
- like us
they do not know it -

They live piled up with no choice

"The discipline of the farmyard", says Catela*,
"applies to all."



My finger will never be able to stay uncorrupted
like that of St. Teresa of Avila.

My finger accuses.

The universe as far as the end of the South
is an impudent delight that watches grief go by.


*Sonia Catela, an Argentinian writer.

Copyright © Patricia Severin 2003; trans. copyright © Brian Cole 2003.


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