^{after Gaspara Stampa and Alfonsina Storni}

get up, sister, when dawn
calls to daybreak 
reborn; 
               mother me dawn-like, 
entangled in daisy;  
mountain my mouth 
with mother-of-pearl;
touch the wet earth;
               have me lightly, 
and not lonely, in grape leaves;

       in that extreme hour 
(when God shall forgive you),
drink from stones of frost 
               and foam me 
               a trembling corolla;
               
now I must lie reclined
and speak with the birds;

sister my sinews,
bring me wineglasses of miracles;
                your haughty flesh 
like water,

your proud skeleton
calling all 
the vanished names of the wind