Wednesday, January 6, 2010

The Will to Live Manifests Itself

They're feeding on me:
I feel them crawl all over me, pulling out my nails.
I hear them gnawing my scrotum.
They cover me with sand,
dancing, dancing on the mound
of sand and stone covering me.
They roll over me and insult me
ranting out loud a deranged judgment against me.
They've buried me.
They've flattened the ground,
dancing on top of me.
They've left, leaving me for dead and buried.
Now I can relax.

Poem by Reinaldo Arenas
El Morro Prison, 1975

Translated by Jaime Manrique
Published in The World Magazine