I dreamt I was translating a poem by
Roberto Bolaño but that his words
Resisted my touch, my gaze,
Squirted hot mescal into my dark eyes
Of which my tongue refused to lick
The dripping drink due to its teetotaler master,
And in this way, every way imaginable,
My native tongue has resisted me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem