I wove a blanket
out of the sand
for you,
and a little hat
for your head buried
between the moistened depths
and sudden openings. Rough
jewel, rare blossom between
overlapping petals
that wave and tear
where you sleep,
unfinished,
without shadows,
floating one,
between the warm wet walls
that lift around the orchard
of a woman.
Remember these hands
that I made so still and fine
I could weave the sand together for you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem