I have two lands: Cuba and the night.
Or are they only one? No sooner
Does the long-veiled majestic sun set
Holding a carnation in one hand than
Does Cuba, like a widow, appear to me.
I know what that blood-red carnation is
That's trembling in its hand. It is empty,
My chest is destroyed, and empty too
Where my heart used to be. It's time
To begin dying. The night is good
For saying good-bye. Light gets in the way,
So does human language. The universe
Speaks better than humans do.
Like a flag,
An invitation to battle, the candle's
Red flame flares up. The windows,
I, all tight inside, open them. Mute, stripping
The carnation's petals, widowed Cuba,
Like a cloud roiling the sky, pass by ...
Translated by
William Little.© Gainesville, Florida, Santa Fe College, 2012.
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