Stretched to its limit,
your hair is lost in the forest,
your feet are touching mine.
Asleep you are greater than all of the night,
but your dream still fits this room.
How much are we who are so little!
Outside a taxi passes
with its cargo of ghosts.
The running river
Will tomorrow be another day?
Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2015
Photo by Laura Makabresku