Let us go now into the forest.
The trees will pass before your face,
and I will stop and offer you to them,
though the trees cannot bend.
The night watches over all his creatures,
but for the pine trees that never change:
old wounded springs that still are gushing
blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would arise
and carry you from valley to valley,
and you would pass from arm to arm,
a child running from father to father.
Translated from Spanish by Paul Weinfield, © 2015
Photo by Freddie Ardley