Ya desaparecieron los caballos.

Los héroes van vestidos de batracios,
 los espejos viven vacíos
 porque la fiesta es siempre en otra parte,
 en donde ya no estamos invitados
 y hay pelea en las puertas.

Por eso es éste el llamado penúltimo,
 el décimo sincero
 toque de mi campana:
 al jardín, camarada, a la azucena,
 al manzano, al clavel intransigente,
 a la fragancia de los azahares,
 y luego a los deberes de la guerra.

Delgada es nuestra patria
 y en su desnudo filo de cuchillo
 arde nuestra bandera delicada

Right, comrade, it’s the hour of the garden
 and the hour up in arms, each day
 follows from flower or blood:
 our time surrenders us to an obligation
 to water the jasmines
 or bleed to death in a dark street:
 virtue or pain blows off
 into frozen realms, into hissing embers,
 and there never was a choice:
 heaven’s roads,
 once the by-ways of saints,
 are jammed now with experts.
 

Already the horses have vanished.

Heroes hop around like toads,
 mirrors live out emptinesses
 because the party is happening somewhere else,
 wherever we aren’t invited
 and fights frame themselves in doorjambs.

That’s why this is the last call,
 the tenth clear
 ringing of my bell:
 to the garden, comrade, to the pale lily,
 to the apple tree, to the intransigent carnation,
 to the fragrance of lemon blossoms,
 and then to the ultimatums of war.

-from http://readingfanon.blogspot.com/2011/10/right-comrade-its-hour-of-garden.html

Ours is a lank country
 and on the naked edge of her knife
 our frail flag burns.

 mental venture

 I split the dream

 of the slow

 & neutral

 Persist

 & breathe

 My little flask

 Pointy wisp

 Pubescent valve

 Join

 the game

 I smoke

 & praise you

 Hew

 & raze you

 Jungle

 kill

 Bulldoze

 your sierra

 Fire

 to ash

 I wait

 & wait

 And you

 where are you

 Fragrant

 lantana

 Aim

 your voice

 In calm

 plains

 In silence

 wild

 Erasing

 the thirst

 The weightless

 altar

 insults

 the blood

 Awake

 diagonals

 Rot

 & Stand

 Go & go

 Flower

 gaining

 Plant your will!

-translated by Suzanna Jill Levine, from https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/58268/jungle-kill