Seeing Him Again
Gabriela Mistral
¿And never, never, not
even in nights filled
with tremor of stars, nor
in the dawns
virgins, not even in the
sacrificed afternoons?
¿At the edge of none
existent pale path,
that encircles the field, at
the edge of nothing
tremulous fountain, white
moon?
¿Under
the braids of the jungle,
while calling him it’s
become dark,
nor in the cave where my scream
comes back?
¡Oh, no! To see him again,
no matter where,
in the backwaters of
heaven or in a boiling vortex,
under placid moons or in
lurid horror!
¡And be with him every
spring
and every winter, in an angsty
knot, around his bloody neck!
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