Aurelio Arturo

CLIMATE

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This green poem, leaf by leaf,

is rocked by the fertile, southwest wind;

this poem is a country that dreams,

a cloud of light and a breeze of green leaves.

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Falls of water, stones, clouds, leaves

and an agile breath in everything, they are the song.

There were palms, palms and the breeze

and a light like swords through the atmosphere.

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The loyal wind that rocks my poem,

the loyal wind that the song impels,

rocked the leaves, rocked the clouds, happily

rocking white clouds and green leaves.

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I am the voice that gave songs to the wind

pure songs west of my clouds; my heart in every palm,

a broken date tree, united the multiple horizons.

And in my country herding clouds,

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I put my heart in the south, and to the north

like two rapacious birds, my eyes

pursued the flock of the horizons.

life is beautiful, a hard hand, shy fingers

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as they create the fragile vase

of your song, fill it with your joy or with

the hidden honeys of your crying.

This green poem, leaf by leafs rocked by a fertile wind,

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a slender wind that loved the grass and skies of the south,

this poem is the country of the wind.

Under a sky of swords, dark earth,

green trees, green gibberish of the small leaves

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and the tardy wind moves the leaves and the days.

Let the wind dance and let the green distances

call me with secret, hidden rustles: a docile woman,

her breast filled with honey, she loved under the

palms of my songs

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Colombia