Thursday, July 7, 2011

Hunter of the Llano

                           
  In my dream  I found myself hover over .

  the Finca de San Martin  Paez would meet his mistress

and I would meet you in a bench before we became lovers

and surrounding hills now churning red mud

time flew and then stopped when I saw

you limping past me without a word.

And like Lot’s wife I turned to salt

By this act you undid everything and nothing.

The endless sky of the llano, azure like no other,

The resolve of the hunter stalking the jaguar

for days and silently in turn being stalked by him.

The din of cicadas at dusk , the nightly cry of the jabali

the  taste of the mamey, the emerald of the colibri

the viper held tender in your hand .

Everything you brought from the llano stayed.

my sacred tones  held fast as ballast,

all came to me as I descended into that mud

all but your name.

Antonia Baranov
                                                                                                                                                                           

                        

1 comment:

  1. Your poems ate like a rich tapestry of colours, such vivid images. I can almost see it like a film.

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