outland poetry
landform
地貌
Luis Pales Matos
Barren desolate land
Drilled a cactus.
Soil nitrate vast expanse of whiteness, and the birds flying
Thirst heart to tears.
A piece of dried-up swamp
Interval large expanse of
Dark, stagnant, silent sky
Shrouded in all directions.
Sun baked the red swamp
Looked like the soup,
Hot sand
Reflected light and dry.
When night falls before collar,
Silence sad,
Sucking from the undercurrent of darkness
A skin disease clams die
Uttered a scream.
Fear of suffocation, desolate.
Hard crust of oppression
Dead line below
Everything here is subjected to suffering in silence,
A few yellow goat
Grew up in the sparse shrubs,
Far from a cattle
Recollection of a sleeping alone and tired.
This is a barren desolate land.
The flames pouring height
The swamp was filled with
Corruption and bad breath;
Something dark and moldy
Flash wildfire that night,
And to the specter of those slender
O listen to the wilderness swinging.
This is where I grew up.
My childhood, like a mountain goat
In this world full of disgust and hatred wasteland
Children enjoy the shoot.
This is all I have experience:
Salt, drought, tiredness,
To name full of sadness,
An unwavering firmness,
The Call of the depths of his heart;
Like a stubborn terrible mushroom
Grow in soft soil
Filled with vain, dashed hopes.
Translator: 赵振江
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