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| Eliot (1888 - 1965) |
MAÑANA DENDE LA VENTANA
Cola cacía del almuerzu escazuelen nes cocines del suétanu,
y a lo llargo de les veres pisaes de la cai
albidro les húmides almes de les criaes
que broten desanimaes pelos respiraderos.
Abuxaes foles de niebla echen pa min
cares torcíes dende’l fondu la cai,
y arrinquen d’una caminante de saya embarrada
una vaga sorrisa qu’esnala al debalu
y s’esfuma en llegando onde los teyaos.
MORNING AT THE WINDOW
They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.
The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.
