La guácara
Isabel Parra
The snail
They call me Guácara,
my shape is that of a snail,
I live in quiet humidity,
I flee from the sun's rays.
When winter begins
and the earth gets wet
and the seed germinates
and the branch turns green,
I come out.
I come out of my hiding place
and on the wet sand
after my slow walk
I leave a silvery trail.
The peasant's son,
the chubby boy,
when hunger torments him
puts my body on the fire.
I writhe in pain
on the relentless embers
asking for more compassion
for my innocent body,
what pain, oh, what pain!
But the mischievous boy
laughs at my agony
and seeing that I am already roasted
he eats me with joy.
They call me Guácara,
my shape is that of a snail,
my eyes are two little pieces
that reflect my sadness.
What pain, what pain!
What pain, oh, what pain!
