The Dream Poem by Blanca Varela

The Dream



Nothing stops the star ascending above the wavy sands.
Nocturnal sweetness vanquishes the archer,
diminishing the pale smile of his blue lips,
seeing him inert and aching on his throne of snow.
Between rock and cloud-glimmer,
beloved son of the rain, raise our hand
to cede the fire and its gardens.

Translated from the Spanish
by Carlos Lara

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