Everything is Filled with You

by MIGUEL HERNANDEZ

Translated by DON SHARE 

 

Everything is filled with you,

and everything is filled with me:

the towns are full,

just as the cemeteries are full

of you, all the houses

are full of me, all the bodies.

 

I wander down streets losing

things I gather up again:

parts of my life

that have turned up from far away.

 

I wing myself toward agony,

I see myself dragging

through a doorway,

through creation’s latent depths.

 

Everything is filled with me:

with something yours and memory

lost, yet found

again, at some other time.

 

A time left behind

decidedly black,

indelibly red,

golden on your body.

 

Pierced by your hair,

everything is filled with you,

with something I haven’t found,

but look for among your bones.

 

Don Share is Senior Editor of PoetryHis books include Squandermania (Salt Publishing), Union (Zoo Press), Seneca in English (Penguin Classics), and most recently a new book of poems, Wishbone (Black Sparrow) and Bunting’s Persia (Flood Editions, a 2012 Guardian Book of the Year).

Everything is Filled with You

Related Posts

poetry feature image

January 2021 Poetry Feature: Bruce Bond

BRUCE BOND
I was just another creature crawling from the mausoleum, / and I thought, so this is it, the place in the final chapter / where I am judged for all my cruelties, blunders, failures of attention, / and I waited for the furies to take me, or some such host. / But it was just another morning.

Sky full of comets

Poems in Translation from Bestia di gioia

MARIANGELA GUALTIERI
And he soars / saved, outstretched / untouched by the gravity that pins us / down / we deserters of empty spaces and heights / shadows cast / into modest taverns for a bite. / Heads in capitals / of rust. / A lifetime annuity of darkness. / Only a cry can save us now.

poetry feature image

December 2020 Poetry Feature: Denise Duhamel and Jeffrey Harrison

DENISE DUHAMEL
Where was I / when I was 20? I’d already been accepted / as an exchange student, taking my first plane ride / to London where I’d catch a train / to Wales. On that first flight, I sat next to a woman / in a shawl—how old was she? It’s hard to say.