World Literature:
Alex Pausides (Cuba)
Poet on the Island
They haven't torn my smiles from my face
you can't brand love
no one's kicked me from my house
I sleep peacefully, legally at night
without dreaming the pigs are at my door
and when I wake
no one's looking through the blinds.
They didn't call at my keyhole yesterday
asking about the poem against them
they can't erase my candor
they didn't kill my child in my arms
my loved one on my lips
my homeland in my song.
They haven't lynched me
my skin is no map of currents
they didn't pull my nails out
forcing me to say yes
didn't tear out my testicles by the roots
fill me full of lead for whistling
curse me
send me into exile
they don't kill my dew or flower
terrorize my doves
when I dream, dream in the streets
no one pulls me apart
no one silenced the guitars with one blow
no one pushes me into my own heart
no one ever hit me in the middle of a poem
they let me grow.
I carry my island like a flower that rains
I carry my time like a great promise on my cheek…
(Translation from Cuban by Margaret Randall)
