by Alfonsina Storni
I throw myself here at your feet, sinful,
my dark face against your blue earth,
you the virgin among armies of palm trees
that never grow old as humans do.
I don't dare look at your pure eyes
or dare touch your miraculous hand:
I look behind me and a river of rashness
urges me guiltlessly on against you.
With a promise to mend my ways through your
divine grace, I humbly place on your
hem a little green branch,
for I couldn't have possibly lived
cut off from your shadow, since you blinded me
at birth with your fierce branding iron.
Last updated January 29, 2024