Luis Alberto Crespo (Venezuela)
Por: Luis Alberto Crespo
Traductor: Nicolás Suescún.
Never will the dry land
slip away in us.
When the prayers begin
it will be to die.
Everything ends up in those sandy grounds
those long, long pieces of land,
and even though it blows,
it comes whistling by the poles,
and all of us hanging down in the slopes
The large doors,
those family treasures, will not save us
from the sandy pits,
the earth you step upon.
For even though the green in the farms
the street of water,
we will be outlaws
swept away by the least wind passing.