Since this useless grief of mine
likes the taste of rain, snail shells,
the organs of the body,
I’ll go ahead and feed your heart
to the disheartened poppies.
Grief bunches up between my ribs,
each breath I take is painful.
The hard slap of a hand, an icy fist,
that violent, that fatal, unseen
blow of an ax has cut you down.
There’s nothing big enough to stick my hurt in.
—Miguel Hernández from “Elegy,” The Selected Poems of Miguel Hernandez: A Bilingual Edition. Edited & Translated by Ted Genoways. (University of Chicago Press; 1 edition October 1, 2001)