From Contradanza de pie y de barro

There is a wind blowing
flowery moods
atmosphere of terror
a quaking where the nerves
of water tremble.
There is a breath in the wind
in which reside fruit
ripe with innocence.
There is a wind blowing
alive between fingers
a bonfire dense
whit the sound of thunder.
There is a breath in the wind
calling to clay, the wave
that rises and falls,
to kiss its edge.
There is a breath and a wind
detached from the air
they search among things
for their true names.

*************

Clay is a thing
an earthly object
mere matter, flux
that thinks not, feels not.
Clay is an element
sustenance without essence
an adulterous mix, no more,
of water and earth.

***********

The foot has no name
is an active organ
with neither body nor will
it’s the foot that sustains
a vast edifice
of countless textures.
The foot is only a part
a particle of dust
of no apparent worth.


Translation by Joan Lindgren