Native Lands

the yonder clouds exasperate me

the yonder rumours cast

me down : there used to be

a mountain cradle – whereas nowadays there’s

an insidious chair of torture : any blast of wind

blowing thereof brings about

the reaping of the visionary

diseases – any blue forest emplaces

the sullen and dumb orchard

of death

now I realise I was brought up

in the most barbarous Gypsy bender tent camp

of the eternalities – where – amongst fires

nobody has ever taught me anything but

the criminal sharpness

of the words

in vain are the philanthropists striving – the snobbish

celestial bodies – to convert into a ballroom – this

brutal penitentiary

colony : it’s as though someone attempted

to turn a hirsute god

of the bolts – rocks and

wellsprings – into

a peaceable citizen

English version by Gabriela PACHIA