Marioneta

That house had I don't know what soft charm
in the humble beauty of the colonial patio
covered in summer by the flowery mantle
woven by the wisterias, the grapevine, and the rosebush...

It seems to me that I see you! The short skirt,
on a bench the tips of your feet steep,
the disheveled curls and absorbed contemplating
the puppets that spoke, English, Russian, and French.

-Up, Mrs. Rosa!...
Mr. Pánfilo, nimble!...
And that puppeteer
with a hoarse voice
gave us the show.
Your eyes were ecstatic:
those puppets
jumped and danced
capturing in your restless soul
the warm emotion...

The years of joyful childhood have already passed
on the way to oblivion; the puppets too.
Compliments and promises caressed your ear...
you left your home, it was not known with whom.

There behind the scenes, ridiculous and petty,
the simple set of your home collapses...
And you, on the stage of a frivolous destiny,
you are a fragile puppet dancing incessantly!