This seemed to be the day
They kept talking to me about—
Without eyes—without a television
The tourists and
The girls working—
The clouds making many fantasies
Up in the sky—
The moon hung upon itself over
A tiny yellow hacienda—
The light falling—
There you can see my parents
Waiting for months in
My tiny living room
For their first grandchild to be born.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the arrival of a grand child! certainly excites the grandparents at first!