Sandino

That free spot in the sky,
those nebulas like ice
are the pure appearance of insomnia,
of the dream that awakens in new hands,
height that rises towards the human
where the star knows that this sign
is Sandino's raised hat.

Under the hat are two wings
kept for a village of birds.
If there's risk, the blackbird rings
calling for tempting sunrises.
The heart doesn't know that suddenly
it's not him, everything changed, nothing is the same.
It's Sandino's raised hat.

The lover from Rugama roars with tenderness,
Masaya like a lion and hurries,
Guatemala is all around and deepens in me
and climbs a ladder so light
that the sun, amazed, claims him,
says "heart, come, come, come with me".
It's Sandino's raised hat.

Everything seems almost dry on the planet, in this forge,
and yet water flows, water flows, water flows in Nicaragua.
Shame takes off its petticoats
and undresses completely, completely, completely, completely revealed.
Diriamba walks in love
with that human volcano, tender as a child.
It's Sandino's raised hat.

The companion is our American,
our head and idea and hat are ours,
the borders are ours, the steels
with which we must cut so many wrongs,
tell more truths to the certain,
tell more and more and more truths to the certain,
that the lover roars so vividly in us.
It's Sandino's raised hat.

(1983)