Angular Sky

The last sunlight of this year comes 

Touching my face from the windows of the train

Like tons of wheat.

There is a woman and a baby,

The baby is innocently sleeping on her bosom.

The sunlight and the woman dazzle my eyes.

Union Square.

In the middle of the sharp buildings, 

As if each one stabs the sky,

There are polite trees, beautiful women,

And street booksellers

I sit on the wooden bench,

Read a few poems in Spanish

Written by Cesar Vallejo:

“Y el hombre…Pobre… Pobre!”

Then suddenly, 

I am thinking of you, my dear,

        Thinking of you,

             And your most curves

Under this angular sky.

“And the man… Poor man… Poor man!”