The silly ewe comes smelling up to me.
Her tail wriggles without hinges,
Both ends of it at once and equal.
Yesterday the parrot bit her;
Last week the jaguar ate her young one;
But experience teaches her nothing.
THE SNAKE
The chickens are at home in the barnyard,
The pigs in the swill,
And the flowers in the garden;
But where do you belong,
With your lacquered coils,
O snake?
THE YEAR
Days and days float by.
On the sides of the mountains
Blue shadows shift
And sift into silence.
Morning…
The cock crows.
There is that rosy glow on the mountain's edge;
Jose in the door of his hut;
Maria's lace bobbins
Tapping, tapping.
Evening…
The parrot's shrill cry;
Pale silver green stars.
Night…
The ghosts of dead Joses
And dead Marias
Sitting in the moonlight.
Peace—
Depressing,
Interminable
Peace.
BURNING MOUNTAINS
I
A herder set fire to the grass
On the other side of the valley,
And now a beautiful Indian woman
Bends, whirls, undulates,
Tosses her gold braceleted arms into the air—
Then sinks into her gray veil.
II
Fire, dying in smoke,
You stir behind the haze
Like a warrior
Who threatens in his sleep.