97
Hay que volar en este tiempo, ¿a dónde?
Sin alas, sin avión, volar sin duda:
ya los pasos pasaron sin remedio,
no elevaron los pies del pasajero.

Hay que volar a cada instante como
las águilas, las moscas y los días,
hay que vencer los ojos de Saturno
y establecer allí nuevas campanas.

Ya no bastan zapatos ni caminos,
ya no sirve la tierra a los errantes,
ya cruzaron la noche las raíces,

y tú aparecerás en otra estrella
determinadamente transitoria
convertida por fin en amapola.

97
One has to fly in these times.  But, where?
Without wings, without a plane, to fly without doubts.
Sure, steps take place without fail,
but do nothing to lift the passenger's feet.

One has to fly each moment, as the eagle flies,
as the day flies, and the housefly.
One has to conquer Saturn's rings,
and build there new bells.

No, neither shoes nor roads are enough.
Ground serves not the wanderer.
But roots have crossed the night,

and you'll appear on another star,
determinedly changeable,
changed at last to a poppy.

Translation: Terence Clarke