The word surrounds us
we hear it
we touch it
its aroma surrounds us
a word that we say
and we model with the hand
fine and rough
and that
we forge
with the fire of blood
and the softness of the skin of our beloved ones
omnipresent word
with us from the dawn
and even before
in the dark water of the dream
or in the age from which we barely save
remnants of memories
of frights
of terrible tenderness
that goes with us
a silent monologue
a dialogue
a word we offer to our friends
a word we coin
for love for complaining
for flattery
a coin made of sun
or silver
or a false coin
in it we look at ourselves
to know who we are
our occupation
and race
it reflects
our self
our tribe
deep mirror
and when it is happiness and anguish
and the vast skies and the green foliage
and the earth that sings
then that flight of words
is poetry
can be poetry

Translation: 2004, Raúl Jaime Gaviria