Torment, but — Web Exclusive
By Eduardo Milán
Translated by Leora Fridman
Torment, but,
under the torment,
serene. Because there is torment
raise your head.
There’s torment in the West. Copious clouds
over originality
green before but can’t give any more,
doesn’t delay in ripening to full and that,
that was for yesterday, falls. Pendulums go from drought to drought
from field to originally green field,
and return like a bell, like a dialogue
of the sky with this monologue. At this Western
and Christian point there is torment and clouds
over the bull.
Eduardo Milán is a Uruguayan-born poet, essayist, and literary critic. He left Uruguay in 1979 for Mexico due to political persecution and has since has published over a dozen books of poems, as well as essays and literary criticism. Milán is the recipient of the Premio de Poesía Aguascalientes.
Leora Silverman Fridman is a writer, translator, and educator living in Massachusetts. Her recent and forthcoming publications are included in Denver Quarterly, Shampoo, Sixth Finch, H_NGM_N, and others.
Original Text: Eduardo Milán. Manto. Mexico City: Fondo de cultura económica, 1999.