A Steppe on the River Nazos
translated from the Spanish of Manuel José Othón
Not one green hill or prairie!
I force myself to contemplate
that dry and burning plain
where Spring has never reigned.
Laid out monotonously from one fiery horizon
to the other, the plain is bisected by a lifeless river
with no steep banks or any reefs to give it color –
only the dying but hot-tempered sun for company!
Wind from the mouth of a furnace
whips across the dry and lifeless grass,
scorching every plant in its path
with burning breath.
Only the dandelion, breaking out of its prison
in the straw-painted cotton plant,
dares to raise its plumed,
white flagged head.