THE KNIFE SHARPENER
This terrible pain builds up every night
For a new pair of wings…
Where will be those who yesterday
Put on my shoulders the insomnia
Of the first hour of dawn!
Day, the knife-sharpener of the gold-scissors,
The steel-daggers and the iron-backs;
Last night I had the wings
And I reached the sky.
But this morning
You arrived with your flute and stone
And your twelve silver-knives.
Then, slowly began cutting the wings.
Juana de Ibarbourou