I emerge from between my teeth, sniffing,

Crying out, pushing,

Dropping my trousers …

My stomach empty, my guts empty,

Poverty pulls me out from between my own teeth,

Caught on a sliver by the cuff of my shirt.

A stone to sit on,

Can’t I even have that now?

Even that stone, the woman who gives birth stumbles on,

Mother of the lamb, the cause, the root,

Can’t I even have that now?

At least the other one

That passed through my soul stooping.

At least

The limestone, the bad one (humble ocean)

Or the one not even useful to throw at a man,

Let me have that one now!

At least the one you find by chance and only in an insult,

Let me have that one now!

At least the twisted and crowned one in which

But once, the tread of clear conscience resounds.

Or at least that other which is hurled in a suitable curve

Will fall by itself

In declaration of inmost truth.

Let me have that one now!

A crumb of bread, can’t I even have that now?

No more do I have to be what I always have to be.

But give me

A stone on which to sit,

But give me

Please, a crust of bread on which to sit,

But give me,

In Spanish,

Something, at least to drink, to eat, to live, to rest me,

And afterwards I will go on …

I discover a strange shape, my shirt is very ragged

And dirty

And still I have nothing,

This is horrible.