ANTONIO MACHADO
(1895- 1952)

Point five
of death weighs on you
poetry lives again
in your memory
a tower hides
lost birds
with the poor thirst
watering your troubles
sounding by dead trees
by dark roosters
with a few coins
saved up for one meal
for Sunday
by blood and flesh
on the body politic
of a single sight flaming
for the condemned
words like wine rises
by two shot gun weddings,
and three executions
in the same village Square
at the same moment
of ephemeral poetic time,
yet you arise with verse
on the broken mattress
with uncanny humor
leaves your nature awakened
you sense the odor
of fruit, bananas and greens
along rose red fiery gardens
where two lovers rest
in each other
entwined by the darkest eyes
after getting your autograph.