Between Suns and Moons
By Daniel Torres
Translated by Freda Barron
The inevitable departure of the moons
makes the older self more present,
stained by so many suns.
The less archaic self,
an apprentice of the moons,
yearns for more suns.
In the shadow of the years
(those past, those future),
hazy memories emerge,
filled with shadows and nostalgic longings.
Always the passing of bitter memories
of distant deaths,
I see myself again
and thus confirm that those were not my deaths.
In the dawns that grant hope,
that always mark the beginnings of days
and the wait for countless nights,
of opposite endings, of different phenomena
that attract each other and seem like one.
Like the cycle that ends in winter
and begins in winter,
and the sunset that lingers until dawn,
with the greater stars as witnesses,
in a night that is only intermittent.
The similarities of opposites,
the end that grants a consecutive beginning,
a cry that chases joy,
the despair that stems from faith,
the perseverance of death,
that which only comes after a life.
The poetry written on the shelves of a memory,
to be read by some other memories,
among the immovable rocks
that force the water to dance
and sustain a subtle ripple
along the burdened shores,
where a little bird talks with itself,
while it feeds, between suns and moons.