Del Chalchalero

San Lorenzo Ravine
the shadow of the walnut trees
abode in the sarsa cries
ripe mulberry under the chalchal.

The song of the chalchalero
the siesta of the air moistens
and dyes with love the red
feather of the chest over the chalchal.

Song of the chalchaleros
stream of blooming feathers
open color of the ceibo
wound of the heart.

How beautiful when the foam
with eyes of snow descends
and in white jasmines coagulates
tremor of moon over the chalchal.

At dawn the chalchaleros
will turn the sky into a branch
where the chalchal spills
sonorous spring blood.