Alchemy

The stained glass to our hill,

An emerald suspended,

The adage for our love.

Paradoxical empty halls,

Thunderous mazes

Where you fervour burgeons,

Where my terror ceases to be.

(Fly through liturgical enchantments.

Uncover the bloody trails.

Seek refuge at the bottom of a well.

Ignore the compass.)

Turn into poetry,

The greatest mutation

Always pries open that one window

Where arrogance dies,

Where alchemy thrives.

Ezquiel Samora

Translated by Leonor Gomes