In Havana there is a street called Calle
de la Amargura or Street of Bitterness.
On the Street of Bitterness
a man runs from the rain
arms raised into the next imagination.
A woman sits head down
on the stoop of a house
where her indiscretions
fly about like butterflies.
All songs end,
memories soar over rooftops,
an eyelid swells with desire.
On the street of Bitterness,
Calle de la Amargura, there are boys
switching their tongues,
they dare not speak, they await
their turn in the line of understanding.
On that street
a daughter is dying.
Her father searches for a cure
and finds instead the pillar of his wife,
covered with lizard scales,
melting with the rain.
On the Street of Bitterness,
Calle de la Amargura, no one is surprised
at the awful taste of Paradise.