PIROSMANI
Bueyes y burlas,
bruises and wanting:
spare this light y espera
las ansiosa plenitud
de tu desgaste.
Brilliant paragraphs,
and signboards and portraits
de fracasos y farsas,
de jinetes fallidos…
and painted houses.
(But bake that bread
and break it:
pan duro bien salado
para filas de indigentes
of dirty speech
and scant propriety.)
It’s your foliage
de caridad confesa,
de ingenuidad brillante:
telas caras en muros que arden.
(But burn that book
and mourn it:
kingly pyromaniac
of forms and sizes
de tonalidades bruscas
en dominios de aire.)
You know the cherished song,
the railway’s passing.
You know the rotting of the plant,
when it sells the root,
and fails the garden.
Bueyes y burlas,
bruises and wanting:
spare this light y espera
las ansiosa plenitud
de tu desgaste.
Brilliant paragraphs,
and signboards and portraits
de fracasos y farsas,
de jinetes fallidos…
and painted houses.
(But bake that bread
and break it:
pan duro bien salado
para filas de indigentes
of dirty speech
and scant propriety.)
It’s your foliage
de caridad confesa,
de ingenuidad brillante:
telas caras en muros que arden.
(But burn that book
and mourn it:
kingly pyromaniac
of forms and sizes
de tonalidades bruscas
en dominios de aire.)
You know the cherished song,
the railway’s passing.
You know the rotting of the plant,
when it sells the root,
and fails the garden.