The Bones

Their bones,
Laid two metres below ground,
Simply jut out,
They are yellow like wholesome wax
And spread a pleasant smell.

That's how you come to know them,
By their bones,
Bestowed with these three qualities.

Our saints...
That's how we've come to know
              our saints for centuries,
Their bones as yellow as wax,
Simply jut out, embalming the air.

You're told as a reminder,
''What are you goggling at?
Strike them on their skulls,
Take hold of your spades,
Seize your mallets,
Press them down back into the ground,
Ram the place with rollers,
Cement the graveyards!...''

Yet, wronged as they might be,
The saints keep jutting out
Through the concrete,
From under pelting mallets
And tank tracks...

Is it only in order to forgive
And bless us?

                                                 in The Crossing, 1994
                                            English version by Gabriela PACHIA