Nicanor Parra, translations my own 

in the garden
that is an abyss
an old man bald
as a watermelon
devotes himself
to a magazine
he gives me
a kind look
in the garden
that yawns
and fills with air
the soul sees
what the body
cannot mothers
with children
in their arms
men on bicycles
students playing
Araucanian soccer
with a ball of rags
in the cinema
of a wall I pretend
to look at mirrors
in one I see myself
I see nothing
donít you like
the mouth or eyes?
consider the shape
of the abdomen
the heart doesnít know
what to think
beyond the garden
fence because
the garden is small
the skeletons
of trees are nothing
but waving furniture
nothing but
chairs and tables
in perpetual motion
without a care
for the falling snow
I hear a woman
sobbing abandoned
by the crimes
of love sheís dressed
in strict white
Iím exhausted
from so much
sobbing but
the following
completely unknown
to us draws
my attention:
god himself is nothing
other than god
close, but never


Eloisa Amezcua is an Arizona native. Her poetry and translations are published or forthcoming from POETRY, The Journal, Prelude, and others. She is the author of On Not Screaming (Horse Less Press) and the founder/editor of The Shallow Ends. You can find her at www.eloisaamezcua.com.