The Wheel (I)
My sweetheart, we are a wheel,
each of us tied with our careworn rope ends
to the other’s shoe sole
and a child tumbles us head over heels
weeping down the mountains of the universe.
A spindle of frozen darkness
dwells between us,
supporting our somersault,
how hard it is to behold
our confused eyes in the topsy-turviness,
the rolling entraps villages,
on the wheel half
germinating from me,
while nature’s softness
to the wheel side which devours you.
Thus you surrender
and I can barely hear your vanquished
call to motionlessness to take repose
but who can stop
a wheel from its rolling ?
English version by Gabriela PACHIA