Chopos Black Poplars

Chopos

Alzados,
subiendo por sí mismos
talla verde en el azul, 
arañando enredaderas de aire.
Cada uno su propia alzadura
cabellos al viento,
su propia plegaria.
Surgen de la masa más verde,
articulándose,
mechas de voluntad en el espacio.
Quietos, altivos,
concentrados en su apogeo
parpadeando de luz, inmateriales casi.
Tiemblan de miedo,
cada hoja, cada rama,
crines hirsutas, verticales.
Comendadores de dios, poetas
de la displicencia o el cansancio,
pinceles del azul, panteras verdes.
Recortados al agua, casi reflejos,
tótemes de cristal.
 

Black Poplars

Towering,
green height on blue,
scraping, climbing the air.
Each one makes its own ascent,
hair to the wind,
its own prayer.
They emerge from the greenest mass,
articulating themselves,
wilful filaments in air.
Calm, proud,
centred on their crowns,
flickering, almost immaterial.
They tremble with fear,
each leaf, each branch
a silken mane, vertical.
God's legions, poets
of discipline or of exhaustion,
brushstrokes of blue, green jaguars,
Cut-outs of water, virtual reflections,
totems of glass.
 

Black Poplars

Coming soon!
 

Original Poem by

Pedro Serrano

Translated by

Gwen MacKeith with Sarah Maguire Language

Spanish

Country

Mexico