El mundo es como es
To you, España, have I come
through vast corridors of words,
across sharp-sun avenues of images,
shadowed by many hearts.
My skin pales
in the olive shades
that hold me to a moment’s rest:
my eyes are only
a sky’s blue blossoms
which suns will hasten
when dream-winds have done.
You’ll perhaps keep
a balcony window open,
while here I gaze across a bridge
of sea I have never crossed,
and stare into the harsh bells
and the heavy dust in the olive trees
and a sun,
shadowed by many hearts,
and a world at once
that is
and never is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem