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