Selected Poems of Juan Gelman
translated by Hardie St. Martin
A man has died and they’re teaspooning up his blood,
dear john, you’re dead at last.
Those pieces of you soaked in tenderness
were of no use to you.
How could you possibly get out
through a little hole
without someone to put a finger there
to keep you back?
He must have swallowed all the rage in the world
and afterwards he was so sad so very sad there
leaning on his bones.
They lowered you down, brother,
the ground trembles above you.
Let’s watch and see where his hands
pushed by his immortal rage send up shoots.