Hilachas De Sol

Threads of sun
on the road

loaded mule
every morning.

The land plowed
unevenly distributed

the moon that shines
only on the estate.

The patroness gave birth
to the peasant
a vulture as black
as his father
while time
rots on my old
wrinkled furrows
bitter and pale.
I carry the pain of the night
in the jug of time
riddled with silence
and misery. (repeat)
Threads of...