Limits
There's a line ofVerlaine's I will not remember again.
There's a street nearby forbidden to my footsteps.
There is a mirror that has seen my £Ke for the last time.
There is a door I have closed for good till world's end.
Among the books on my shelves (I am looking at them)
There must be one I shall never open again.
This summer I shall be 50;
Death is wearing me down , without pause.
from
lllscripciolles
by
Julio Platero Hacdo (Montevideo, 1923)
The Poet Testifies to His Fame
The dome of heaven is the measure of my glory,
The libraries of the East argue over my verses,
Emirs seek me out to fill my mouth with gold,
The angels already have my newest ghazal by heart.
The tools of my trade are humiliation and anguish;
Would to God that I had died at birth.
from
Divan de Albucasim
eI
Hadram/
(12th century)
Translated from the Spanish by Robert Mezey
ELIZABETH SPIRES
The First
Day
The ward is quiet, the mothers delivered,
except in one a woman labors still and calls,
with a sharp cry, that she is dying.
She is not dying but cannot know it now.
Trapped in the birthstorm, I did not cry,
but saw my body as the enemy
I could not accommodate, could not deny.
Morning arrived, and my daughter.
