?Misfortunes of the month of January?
XLI From: ?Cien sonetos de amor?


Misfortunes of the month of January when indifferent

noon establishes its equation in the sky,

a solid gold like wine in an overflowing glass

fills the earth to its blue limits.



Misfortunes of this time, appearing like tiny grapes

that bunch together in green bitterness,

confused, secret tears of the days,

until the elements divulge their clusters.



Yes, seeds, grief, everything that pulses

terrified, in the crackling light of January,

will ripen, ferment, as the fruit ferments.



The sorrows will be divided: the soul

give a gasp of air, and the dwelling-place

will be left clean, with fresh-made bread on the table.