P A O L A D Í A ZM A U R I C I O G U T I É R R E Z

A L B E R T O G A R C Í AL U C Í A H U A C U J A

A L E J A N D R O L U N A Y U N U E N P O L O

What I expected

What I expected, was

Thunder, fighting,

Long struggles with men

And climbing.

After continual straining

I should grow strong;

Then the rocks would shake

And I rest long.

What I had not foreseen

Was the gradual day

Weakening the will

Leaking the brightness away,

The lack of good to touch,

The fading of body and soul

Someoke before wind,

Corrupt, unsubstancial.

The wearing of Time,

And the watching of cripples pass

With limbs shaped like questions

In their odd twist,

The pulverous grief

Melting the bones with pitty,

The sick falling from earth-

These, I could not foresee.

Expecting always

Some brightmess to hold in trust

Sime final innocence

Exempt from dust,

That, hanging solid,

Would dangle though all

Like the created poem,

Or the faceted crystal