Maybe no more

Maybe no more they come to announce me

to be the witness of my execution.

Maybe after all Pasternak

was never put against a wall.

I’m with the colors of the day upon my face.

I have stayed dress for wedding.

A gladiolus in my hand. The red, in my cheeks.

The raven yawns mutely, bored to death

over the apostle’s big head towards a corner.

Words in the Outdoors. Contemporary Cuban Social Poetry, Selection and prologue by Pedro Llanes and Silvia Padrón Jomet. Translated by Edelmis Anoceto Vega.