Cálida rueda / Enrique Molina

Warm Wheel

We’ll never be anything
The extinct fire won’t extinguish
Love revolves in its own ashes:
No kiss fades

Bodies loved from afar
And bodies nearby without bridges
The seagull of goodbyes
Immobilized in the current

Faces that pass but turn
—The beautiful human sunflower...—
That light that seems to be night
That night crowded with lighthouses

Because one time will be another time
And the universe is in my blood
Incited hearts
Oh serpents of the sun

Fuego libre (1962)

{ Enrique Molina | Argentina, 1910-1997 }

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