As an instinct, each line is eyes that don't sleep,
arms that fulfill the seed, always watching, forgetting the whiteness of your mouth, transience of your mouth within your womb.
Cold voice and wings as books...
As an instinct you laid down as of victory, despite the filth, great and mixed are the seasons of what we call “Motherland,” reflecting the shadow of that sporadic dream in its dance.
Good bye tactic lactic midnight without rupture. As an instinct, our country made of pieces, forgetting the word; knowing only the lie.
Incessant ocean,in laying in chastity repeated , while the murky and lonely image of you gets dissolved
Living th wind and the repeated word “polished.” While the light scaffolding of verses plunges.
And falls
falls
falls
falls
As an instinct...
Poema y edición de la ilustración Natalia Correa.
Traducción e ilustración Carolina Márquez.
