Poems

by Coral Bracho

A wave of solid light, its fire intact.
A current, a soft breeze
that arouses everything, that scorches and unravels everything,
that refines everything
back to its pure lines.  A high tide waterfall
that the sun throws down  (its stars
breaking free, its joyfulness,
sustained
falling, its rootballs
of crystals, formed by fire: opening furrows, opening wakes,
wading across, sinking down).   Depth opens
on the surface.
                                                -All
the ocean and the calm
of soothing itself, all that burning thickness of sand,
of plough-turned land, of salt, touches its depths
and is stirred up.

The literal translation of this poem was made by Tom Boll

The final translated version of the poem is by Katherine Pierpoint

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