PEQUEÑOS POEMAS SHORT POEMS
Carlos Barbarito trans. Stefan Beyst
El lobo muerde a la palabra conejo.

Ni grito, ni dolor, ni sangre.


****


El polvo cubre los frutos,
La carne se desgasta en semanas huecas,
oscuros trabajos.


****


Se lava, día tras día, de pies a cabeza.

El agua no basta.


****


Leve ala de fe
sobre el incendio del mundo.
The wolf bites into the word rabbit.

No cry, no pain, no blood.


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Dust covers the fruits
The flesh is worn away in hollow weeks,
dark works.


****


He washes himself, day after day, from
head to foot.
Water does not suffice.


****


Light wing of faith
over the fire of the world

Copyright © Carlos Barbarito 2004; Trans. copyright © Stefan Beyst 2004


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