AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON

AN OCTOBER AFTERNOON

It is sunny: a curve in the road,
takes us deep into the heart
of the earth and of memory.
The earth looks barren and copper-colored,
and the memory, faint as some
uncertain waves of feelings,
is shrouded in the air.
Silence is at times accompanied
by the restless chirping
of a hummingbird in the distance,
amidst the thick mist
of white clouds.
I imagine a figure,
elusive amongst the brushwood,
is moving restlessly out of
fear for the solitude
with the weight of the memory
of a condemnation,
of a shipwreck.
of oblivion.
The heart barely beats
amongst the dry branches of the pomegranate trees,
which bear their red fruit,
every solstice.

SALOMÉ MOLTO, Spain

Translation Germain Droogenbroodt-Stanley Barkan