La vida

es una burla continua

a nuestra ingenuidad.

B.I.


THE ORCHARD, poem by Beatriz Iriart





To Raul Zeleniuk's memory







 


At the orchard
Have bloomed seven 
Of your "incipient ladies of the night"
Seven were their screams
Seven are the memories
Seven your deaths
And your "incipient ladies of the night"
Bring seven lives
When the sun goes down,
And I
Await.




© Beatriz Iriart
Translation from Spanish by 
Olga Y. Mancinelli






Obra:  Susy Dembo








POCIÒN SUTIL, poema de Beatriz Iriart









Hechicera perfecta
de la palabra certera.
Tus zapatillas rojas
etéreas
mágicas
depositan la calma
en el mar impetuoso
de los interrogantes que me acosan 
ya sin palabras
ni huellas.




 

©Beatriz Iriart