translated from the Spanish by Anthony Geist
White valleys
left behind:
they begin to turn into
rocks,
pine trees
and eagles.
Hundreds of years on the road.
On the way
my parents died.
On the way
my children will be born.
Los immigrantes
Valles blancos
han quedado atrás:
empiezan a transformarse
en rocas,
pinos
y águilas.
Cientos de años de viaje.
En el camino
han muerto mis padres.
En el camino
nacerán mis hijos.
Copyright © 2025 by David Cruz. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on September 19, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
