Winston Morales Chavarro

XXVIII
by Winston Morales Chavarro
Translated by Alaric Gutiérrez

My whole life is in the leaf of a tree
Through her my sap flows
Blood apexes of what I am
And what I lose when autumn comes.
In that leaf,
In any of a fir tree,
It is my song of wounded bird,
The pirouettes I stopped
Offering
As I grew older.
That leaf witness it all;
Of the winds I gave up
As I was putting down roots.