Daniel Samoilovich

1949 / Buenos Aires

Porto dos Ossos

Love's anguish takes you by the throat
as though you might never be loved again.
Apollinaire
But how can night come if shadows
are unable to cope with the smooth
blue of the bay?
Already boat hulls are black
and the sky is lined with black masts
while water still glistens.
In the bar, silhouettes
the evening cut from silver paper
drink whisky and murmur
in half a dozen languages. And your bottle
becomes like all the other bottles;
their labels unreadable.
But how can night come
if it is trembling
before the blue shield of the bay?
Maybe a swimmer will approach
from the boats, and by the black wake
of his invisible strokes
night will enter the sea. Then, yes,
before the swimmer, night will be here
and the hand with your heart
in its grip will have opened.

Translated by Julian Cooper
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