Versión: Isaías Garde
La vejez es
un vuelo pajaritos
gorjeantes que rozan
los árboles desnudos
sobre un barniz de nieve.
Ganando y cediendo
son sacudidos
por un viento oscuro-
¿Pero qué?
En los tallos ásperos
se posó la bandada-
la nieve
está cubierta de
cáscaras de semillas
y el viento atemperado
con un agudo
silbido de abundancia.
*****
To Waken an Old Lady
Old age is
a flight of small
cheeping birds
skimming
bare trees
above a snow glaze.
Gaining and failing
they are buffeted
by a dark wind --
But what?
On harsh weedstalks
the flock has rested --
the snow
is covered with broken
seed husks
and the wind tempered
with a shrill
piping of plenty.
To Waken an Old Lady
Old age is
a flight of small
cheeping birds
skimming
bare trees
above a snow glaze.
Gaining and failing
they are buffeted
by a dark wind --
But what?
On harsh weedstalks
the flock has rested --
the snow
is covered with broken
seed husks
and the wind tempered
with a shrill
piping of plenty.
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