A punto de irse | Poesía [ES/EN]

A punto de irse,
jalan el gatillo,
disparan el proyectil,
cantan como el trovador
en la efímera ilusión
de los viejos y sus resabios.
Una poeta habla de pastizales,
asfixia,
el amor que mata,
los charcos y las verdades,
Cuba y sus cráneos,
el temporal y las minas,
el a degüello
que castiga el alma.
Entonces
quedan los aplausos.

¡Muchas gracias por tu visita!

Just as they are about to leave,
they pull the trigger,
fire the projectile,
sing like the troubadour
amidst the fleeting illusion
of old folks and their lingering bitterness.
A poet speaks of grasslands,
suffocation,
love that kills,
puddles and truths,
Cuba and its skulls,
the storm and the landmines,
the slaughter
that punishes the soul.
Then
comes the applause.

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