Un hombre sale al patio trasero de su casa
(ahí no llega nunca el duro viento del otoño)
tiene en sus manos una pequeña copa de aguardiente
and hair fondly table
gray hunger here
here that day it was Hero
here traces of disgust
signals young fingers who played with greatness
the fear
of the immense joy
knowledge of the almighty
Deep in the sky looks a star
hope he calls
man raises his glass
and drink.
Poems of Roque Dalton García
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