For sun threads and an hour less of morning, from The FSG Book of Twentieth Century Latin American Poetry, edited by Ilan Stavans.
from Weaving the Morning / by João Cabral de Melo Neto (9 January 1920 – 9 October 1999), translated by Galway Kinnell
One rooster does not weave a morning,
he will always need the other roosters.
For more stars, from The FSG Book of Twentieth-Century Latin American Poetry, edited by Ilan Stavans.
from The Dead Horse / by Cecilia Meireles (1901-1964, Brazil), translated by James Merrill
Crystal grains were rolling down
his lustrous flank, and the breeze
twisted his mane in a littlest,
from Horses / by Murilo Mendes trans. by WS Merwin
The spirited horses shake out their long blue manes.
from Family Portrait / by Carlos Drummond de Andrade trans. by Elizabeth Bishop
I don’t distinguish those
that went away from those
that stay. I only perceive
the strange idea of family
travelling through the flesh.