In the attic that’s said to be body and that knows
to cast only shadows
I hear furious blood
rush through my palms.
in a time perfectly fit for revenge
my sister breaks the silence,
she waves a tongue of fire,
I glean the night’s scraps:
I’m a slave,
a blind slave.
my sister breaks the mirrors
they reveal death’s eye in mother’s
womb
and wave a tongue of fire.
translated by
Adam J. Sorkin and Mariana Dan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love your writing Niculina.It makes me deep thought, for a second.