Before nineteen thirty eight
I was a tree.
My roots went deep in the earthliness of the world
and I was reading its evil alphabet,
the frightening signs of the century
that was about to end.
There was a rooster between my leaves,
or a bumblebee
and not even Tomás Linden
could chop me off with his silk ax
After two thousand eight
I have become a tree again,
with my pulp many books have been written,
books incredible and quiet
as those of Blas Coll.
From Alberto’s award-winning poetry book, “Los Que Vinieron,” published in Spanish by Negro Sobre Blanco Editions. Caracas, Venezuela, 2014.