No,
the sky is not stretched out
like a patient
anesthetized
upon the table
The patient
on his stretcher
anesthetized to self
is not looking at the sky
he awaits
the cut
the scalpel
that will make the colt of childhood leap
and the birth songs come rushing back
with the hypodermic needles.
Translated by Barbara Jamison
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem