Ardió el sol como nunca. Campos de Matanzas en rojo vivo. Tomamos agua del chorro
Outside now his ashes are blown by the wind through the eyes of ten needles
Let the aroma of need waft across the river to New Jersey: all the snow
It smells of forest and it smells of sea. Look how the vulture rises on
for Karen Bentivenga Sometimes in the heat of the snow you want to cry out
