The woman who raised her children
towards the star of this other greater mother made me shudder.
And how she picked them up from the coloured dust
to bury them under her heart.
The woman of the poet, the leader made me shudder
always in the shadow and filling the vital space.
The woman who lit the threshers
of the invincible mane of that German guy made me shudder.
The young woman made me shudder
daughter of that ferocious continent,
who left her home
for another one, of all people.
Lots of women made me shudder:
women of fire, women of snow.
But what made me shudder
until nearly losing my senses,
what made me shudder the most
are your little eyes, my daughter
are your beautiful little eyes.
The woman who gave birth to eleven sons made me shudder
in the time of flour and a kilo of bread,
and I watch them grow hard, chewing on nothing.
It made me shudder because it was also my grandmother.
Women made me shudder
who history wrote down in laurels
and others, unknown ones, giant ones,
who no book can bear.
Lots of women made me shudder:
women of fire, women of snow.
But what made me shudder
until nearly losing my senses,
what made me shudder the most
are your little eyes, my daughter
are your beautiful little eyes.