Liras

 
                              V



I am going to cry without haste.
I am going to cry until I forget crying
and arrive at a smile
without the stubbornness of fright
to pierce my bones and my song.

By the unarmed tree
that is warmed by a bird’s heart
and without groaning sleeps,
and manages to face a great silence
without this haughty ashen tongue.

By the slight lamb
of tender hoof and pink lips;
by its vibrant snow
that harasses the darkness
and at last from lightning rests.

By the flustered ant
imprisoned in a forest of a hundred leaves;
by its diminutive void
that doesn’t inflame its mystery
and that enormous death wont forgive.

By the cloud that reaches
the threshold of a seedless lily.
Moody tongue
without ecstasy or edge,
not knowing how to die on its knees.

By the herb and the star.
How do your eyes take measure, darkened God?
By the lightest trace
of a shadow on the wall,
my cry has opened its mature crystal.


Sara de Ibanez