Today’s poem, when day already struck
the dark forehead, and dispersed
the stars in a multiple fall,
and the abandoned or unknown site
occupied the whole world;
Today’s poem is the poem of ever,
of later on, of then,
the sole poem which a hand
draws without tiring,
happily on a paper in vast flight,
and where it places skies, stars,
burning calls,
which in the evening
will return to talk to us.

Roberto Fernández Retamar