The rumor grows that he disa [ppe] ared from his seat.
We all search and no one can leave the place.
One begins to die and asks himself if someone else is hiding it,
if oneself has taken it sometimes unknowingly
(we have all been right hand men).
It always rushes you down the perpetual snow
the idea of a source of heat,
thus solid, handy.
One imagines himself who else
could be the enormous plan,
WHO will be one, WHICH the punishment,
WHAT the guilt, HOW the pleasure
of waiting while smoking
the lost pipe eternally,
the small Stalin‘s smoking pipe.
Words in the Outdoors. Contemporary Cuban Social Poetry, Selection and prologue by Pedro Llanes and Silvia Padrón Jomet. Translated by Edelmis Anoceto Vega.