From Reading Room/8:

Roberto Bolaño
Translated by Laura Healey

Back to the issue 8 page

She was more beautiful than the sun
and I wasn’t even 16 years old.
24 have passed
and she’s still at my side.

Sometimes I see her walking
over the mountains: she’s the guardian angel
of our prayers.
She’s the dream that recurs

with the promise of the whistle.
The whistle that calls us
and loses us.
In her eyes I see the faces

of all my lost loves.
Oh, Muse, protect me,
I say to her, on the terrible days
of the ceaseless adventure.

Never pull away from me.
Take care of my steps and the steps
of my son Lautaro.
Let me feel your fingertips
(poem continues in The Reading Room/8)


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