June Days

An intermittent breeze
relieves the humid days of June.
The neighborhood goes in and out of the cafés
and the tourists gape
at the wonders.

We, the inhabitants of this world
walk the streets
hoping to meet
perhaps
a man or a woman to talk to
about something other than money
or we join the ranks
of folk-dancing enthusiasts.

While we dance, holding hands
we forget the color of our skin
the distant customs
our chubby bodies and the imperial language.

We happen on a paradise which brings shoulder to shoulder
a lovely Moroccan girl, a black from Guadalupe
a little Dane or an old and beautiful alcoholic.

After
we take the metro home.

We open the door
and hope for a sleep
where school, homeland, brothers and friends
will dream of a sporadic breeze
in June, somewhere.

Traslated from Spanish by Rowena Hill