Letters to My Mother by Irene Gruss

 

Letters to My Mother by Irene Gruss

Translated from the Spanish by Ivan Ivanissevich

Irene Gruss / Cartas a mi madre

So far the great painter
is the wind, says my mother, while
she drags with one foot
a yellow spot of leaves
falling on the unknown park.
So far the great painter (the wind, says she)
is drawing us
separated as we are by a tree, an immense trunk
ah, how much would we love to join our hands
dance around it
lay a cheek on the frozen bark.
But we are separated
by the immense trunk of a tree
in the unknown park.

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