Unconquered sunlight falling where I planned to
Live:
In Saint Augustine—up next to the saintly giving—
In a trailer park lock-stepped
Accounting to the orchestras of moonbeams in
Her insouciances of ghettos:
While, then—she is living right here—
Brown skinned apogee:
How long will it take her to find her place,
As she moves up into her busied
Holidays—
And the nights of wherever bleed down around her,
And the traffic whistles in her ears:
She will be beautiful wherever she is-
And the sun will give,
And the moon will give,
And the sun and the moon will give and take:
Even if it is not as beautiful as the both of them were
In our memories—
I hope it will be enough, finally, and for heaven's sake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem