Maestranzas de Noche
Congreso
Night Shipyards
Black iron that sleeps
Black iron that moans
Through every pore a scream
Of despair
The burnt ashes
Over the sad earth
The broths in which the bronze
Melted its pain
Birds
From what distant country
Unfortunate cawed
In the endless painful night
And the scream tightens me
Like a coiled nerve
Or like the broken string
Of a violin
Every machine has an open pupil
To look at me
To look at me
On the walls, on the walls fly
The question marks,
The vigornias bloom
In the soul of the bronzes.
And there's a trembling of steps
In the deserted rooms
And among the black night
Desperately they run
And the souls
Of the dead workers sob.
