Feeling for your unconfessable skin, your skin anointed by the sadness of snakes; I can make out your invisible concerns, your heart's cold trail.
I would have noticed your bloody sash, your weeping between window panes, and not the yellow of your wound,
but my dream lives under your eyelids.
Translated by Forrest Gander
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful poem, well articulated and nicely penned with conviction. Thanks for sharing Antonio.