OUTSIDERS (Traducción al Ingles de Heptagrama)

I saw it sleeplessly clear

Almost crystalline

Maybe too much

It is that way why true dreams go away

They go in the obligations of the Indian file

Which is not Indian

As it is made by decadently mestizo souls

It is, conversely,

A line blurred by nonsenses and passing laments

A non-Indian file, never Indian

Every certain number of minutes and hours

The schizophrenic chaos

Of continuous motion traps us

Which demands our life breath

While all happens

I just stand still

With the last few breathings

Of a motionless dog

Lain in the opposite pavement

Biting its private parts

And looking around with the corner of its eye

I prefer it that way

Before giving in completely

The little inherited conscience

Tomorrow I will contemplate the shoes of the persons

While they get in line one after the other

Under the rain

And I will cheer up

For those who come walking on their hands

For those acrobats

Of the last breath

© Eduardo Duarte Yañez (Del Poemario "El Alma Negra")

© Traducción al Ingles HEPTAGRAMA