It’s hot in the San Joaquin valley at 5 in the afternoon
It’s a dream in flames
A banner in embers that comes down from the mountains
From the window in a bar a woman contemplates
The rippling heat
Trains full of cars passing by
Leaning on her chin
She smells the hot earth
Behind her
I drink
A cold can of beer
I dream about the ardent honey of that girl
She keeps on watching the illegals
Down on their knees working
They’re like beings hidden in the fruit trees
The girl goes flying out the window
Like a great drowsy bumblebee
Over the fields
That smolder with ripe strawberries.
(Translated from Spanish by Nick W. Hill)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem