A garden without flowers

If our hands join together 
our skin switches on like a light
upon suburban rooftops.

Beneath the objects resides a secret heart.
On the surface of the faces
breathes thought.

On the face of mothers their children.
In the eyes of memory
passers-by without destination.

Every object has a word
just around the corner.
The words all join together in an unusual garden.

There were flowers for everyone.
Black flowers that no one remembers.
White sheets concealing our dreams.

Translated by Sandra Kingery. Taken from the book “No es nada” (2008)

The last word

The body senses the thought
without yet understanding
what the eyes see.

Hidden nightfall
beside a landscape destroyed
by hands.

A serene river
between invisible walls
divides the city in two.

The last word.
One place for death
another for forgetting.

Without an identity
that ensures safety for
the last word.

The word of life
that your voice
late and without meaning.

The word of love
that you silence forever.
The word of destiny.

Translated by Sandra Kingery. Taken from the book “No es nada” (2008)