|
| |
Each Early Morning
[at the puerto]
on one side
the neighbor's dog is barking loudly
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
while on the opposite side
a child is crying over the blare
from the television |
|
|
too soon, well before dawn,
the daily rhythm of the puerto
will begin anew with the
dub-dub-dub motor sounds
of the first fishing boats to depart |
|
|
|
|
|
while half the world is sleeping
or trying to |
|
|
and somewhere, an old woman
is guarding the ghosts of thoughts
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
