to the language of Encanto,
to the language of romance
to the language of poetry
to a language that lives in anguish
and then back to English
what is lost and what is gained?
Apt that it is a poem about a bird,
that flies from tongue to tongue
pondering the existential -
where do we go when we die?
From what I see
we change, subtly so
taking on shades and scars
that can be quite-
beautiful,
like this image emerging
from the shadows of translation -
"a bird that swims as prayer"
I found it flitting in my own poem
all by itself near the end
as though to perch on a bare branch
in the midst of a transmigratory flight.
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