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NIGHT
from the Spanish of Gabriela Mistral
So you might sleep, my little boy,
the sky now bears no trace
of gleaming. There’s no glow but dew,
no whiteness but my face.
So you might sleep, my little boy,
the river passing by
is all that groans. The roads fall mute.
What now remains? Just I.
The field retreats inside the mist,
the violet’s petals close,
and like a hand upon the world
rest silence and repose.
It was not just my boy I rocked.
My singing also made
the Earth itself grow sleepy as
the rocking cradle swayed.
(originally published in String Poet, Volume III, Issue 1, Summer 2013)
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