Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín

Prayer of the Tiger

Tiger
with worn-out fangs
Old tiger
without stripes
You look like this geography
coming towards me
Where thoughts are curved
And I prowl with the birds
Of expulsion now and in the hour
of our death
Dead deaf Tiger
like a country of thieves (excuse me
but you say it that way)
Your blood runs
Your blood that capers like the ire of a crazy colt
Thus shines your honor
And your pace is more beautiful

We the losers

bless you.

Translated by Nicolás Suescún

Natalia Rendón

 

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