Pablo de Rokha translated by Alani Rosa Hicks-Bartlett Spirit and Figure

I am like the complete failure of the world, oh Nations!

The song face to face with Satan himself,

converses with the tremendous science of the dead,

and my pain spurts blood all over the city.

Still, my days are the remnants of massive, ancient furniture,

last night “God” was weeping between worlds that go

like this, my girl, alone, and you say: “I love you”

when you speak with “your” Pablo, without ever hearing me.

The man and the woman share the stench of the tomb,

the body falls from me to the brutish earth,

just like the red coffin of the wretched man.

Total enemy, I howl through the neighborhoods,

a terror more barbaric, more barbaric, more barbaric,

than the hiccup of a hundred dogs, cast to their deaths.

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