La Preguntona
Patricio Manns
The Nosy One
Where will Higinio Muna be,
thunder and lightning expert
who killed on horseback
under his good fortune
until the moon arched him?
Where did Rosa Huecho stop,
-the one in yellow pants-,
who flaunted two breasts
until she curled up
against the gleam of a knife?
What was the anchor
of the one who twisted rivers,
of the one who performed the tasks
of the one who urged the courage,
of those who spun with cold
the shroud of his journey?
What happened to Ascanio Zarzalla,
who tied a cloud to the dream,
welded the dream to his shrapnel
and the shrapnel to the commitment
until he ran out of guts?
Have they killed Ubaldina,
a thistle with profane pulse,
who with threads of mist
and a needle in each hand
sewed her rage to the countryman?
But who sings the light,
but who populates the shadow?
Don't ask, nosy one,
there was spilled blood
after so much raised history,
after so much land and fog,
after so much land and fog.
