Freer than no one
on the edge
of this undulating sheet of soft cerulean glass
I let my bare feet wander at their will on the grey sand

Waves beat on the jetty with their whip
while the lone sun covers my back
Seagulls and sparrows fly at water level
tear it with their beaks
and snatch away from it
fresh fish thrashing about
in agony
Racket of parrots
a radiating uprising in the kingdoms of the sky
on this morning that shows its face
the bright disposition of a god
and on the clearness of its forehead
the blessing of the breeze
simultaneously ablaze
beneath my forehead
other mornings
mighty mornings of the earth
with their arboreal power
and their marine uproar

Freer than no one
on the morning of my thirtieth year
I dip the tip of my foot in the warm water
of the simmering marsh
in its froth
and the lobster offspring take off
slitting the water where my nomad feet
had splashed seconds ago
and the sand where
lie stranded
drooping jellyfish

shells of constellated tattoos
algae circling the ankle
sea snakes
snails
nautical cloisters
hermit crabs
urchins, the sentinels
of the marsh
and everything that the sea with its tide
obstinately pulls away from its vast domain

A fistful of winds punishes my back
in the same way that the gods
would goad
he whose luck it was to witness the miracle

My kingfisher eyes dive in the virgin water
Startled
soft-shell crabs
flee sideways on the ocean's green carpet
and translucent
octopuses
take shelter in sordid dens

The wind whistles through the coastal palm groves this morning
in which the sun
so as to wake itself
plunges into the water

All is open space
when dew climbs a ladder of ivy up to the sky
The light opens slits of gold
in the thick lemongrass bushes
and the river bank
canvas sails and feather rigging spread out as well

All the brilliance of the sky appears duplicated
in the water's olive mirror

On moss-covered logs
scab-skinned iguanas bask in the sun
while foxes scratch the brambly ground
and alongside the woods
one returns to the ocean
through a trodden path between the palm trees

On the beach
the royal egret tidies with its beak
the plumage that yet again
the wind
will ruffle

The starfish marooned in a puddle
and sand-frosted
shimmers in the sun
and so the tiny crabs shyly peek out
from the holes of their hideouts
and a new litter of turtles rushes forth in search of water

Heralds of the storm
northern birds
cross the sky
But life is a feast
this morning
in which the sun awakes
daydreaming

Twenty years ago I was a child
and I remember the sun
came out from sunrise to sunset
the sun came out every day
And everywhere
at the river's edge
in the shade of the guayo shrubs
under the thatches of houses
some complained about the sun

Ah the sun
the uttermost sun
is this sun
our daily sun
the dog days sun
the sun giving street dogs rabies
the sun that smudges the skin and braises the bones
the sun
that delivers free vitamin injections
the one rubbing the lamp of lust
the sun lying Maria and her boyfriend
on a mat at the foot of a sapodilla tree
and they
covered only by a soft poplin sheet
spend the whole afternoon completely entwined

Drop by drop sweat starts trickling down their legs
and a very penetrating scent beings to cloud them
and so he
who spies them hidden behind a star apple tree
stays there for a while
in ecsatcy and spastic
even if afterward
he'll go cool down
in front of the electric fan
or lying on his belly on the cool tiles
he is well aware that nothing can save him from contagion
day and night
he thinks of nothing but lying at Maria's side
so as to inhale her scent
between the blankets of her zeal

Ay the sun
the sun's sunniness
who could live without this sun? The sun
warming up the ponds of the frogs
and the coconut water
the sun drawing lizards from their caves
sun exploding
jugs of mead over our heads
and turning distance into its magnifying glass

Ay the sun
the sun's scorching heat
the uttermost sun
is this sun
our daily sun
that which we shuffle along with lottery cards
sun feeding its own hearth
with pages of the Mas antiguo Galvan calendar
and frosty beer labels
The sun crawling into bed
where very close together
and drowsy
me and my younger sister
toss in bed restlessly all night long
under the mosquito net

Ay the sun
that gets into bed
shrinks like a gnome
leaps
opens the window
and announces
another day of sun



Jose Luis Rivas - A Season in Paradise
- translated by Monica de la Torre