Arréllaga Renée Ferrer - Paraguay, 1944
Water
Clouds , rustling ferns, rocks,
my body in anticipation of the joys
in the soft blanket of ivy
season nap with me friction
and a riot of birds shun
the vast territory of anguish;
strangely my fingers flowing
a spring sipping despair.
My legs, cravings, my hips
were dripping in torrents;
was absurd for you to stop them
just unleashed and dying.
I know well that I lose myself in water beds
without a glimpse of the fire in your forge.
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