No. 5

If you see a hill of foam
It is my poetry that you see:
My poetry is a mountain
And is also a feather fan.

My poems are like a dagger
Sprouting flowers from the hilt:
My poetry is like a fountain
Sprinkling streams of coral water.

My poems are light green
And flaming red;
My poetry is a wounded deer
Looking for the forest’s sanctuary.

My poems please the brave:
My poems, short and sincere,
Have the force of steel
Which forges swords.

Jose Marti