It Came Late

It was late, by then the horses were sleeping,
standing up, the dark of the forest reflecting in their eyes.
The tablecloth was still on the table,
the breadcrumbs, the food was getting cold.
Those who were pregnant had already given birth,
were out pushing their baby buggies.
The teacher erased the formula on the blackboard.
The dancers took off their slippers
displaying their wounded toes.
The street cleaners gathered up
the garbage the festivals left.
After that we had no desire to keep singing.

It was late, that day was almost another day.
The winning made no sense.
No one admitted defeat.

The peace came late. 

--Kirmen Uribe

translated from Basque by Elisabeth Macklin