I

After the bad days
You can hardly see the dirty water left on the sidewalk
The neighbor says not to let us be
That we do not rest on the clovers in the yard

II

Ana wants to grab the sky
I tell him no, we did not arrive
the sky is much higher
She looks at me
she kisses me and keeps trying
leaps and bounds
over the clovers

III

In these quiet days
everything seems from another world

The dogs promptly at seven in the afternoon
they howl unbalanced for seven days

Let's not let ourselves be, said the neighbor
leaning on the warm fence
of this january

IV

They seem like quiet days, I tell the neighbor across the street
that she sells me bread at noon
She fights the ash from the counters
and from the floor
against drunks who have the excuse of heat
against her husband who does not fight but blows

Across the way, Ana looks for four-leaf clovers in the yard
she stubbornly counts the sheets to three

V

The trees eaten with ashes
and not of fruits
Burnt leaves
yellowish

The ground is something else, green clover

Some girls leaning on the fence
yellow
while the men get drunk
under the cherry
at midnight

VI

My neighbor is without sleep
She gave birth to her baby girl, five days ago
She was born healthy, of good weight, she told me she, she was cesarean
My neighbor is in pain
It's rare to see her like this
She who comes and goes to the bullfights
with her son alive and with her son dead

Last night the men got together under the cherry
Barbecue, loud music and drunkenness until dawn
They celebrated the birth of the girl

Sleepless with Heaven in her arms, she says
They trampled the clovers next door, all trampled

VII

On the other side my neighbor has a new wife
She is almost a girl the woman
She works as a maid and arrives in the afternoons
with market bags, smiling
she looks satisfied with herself
My neighbor yells at her and kicks her clean
two times three
I have seen her
peek through the fence and count out of the corner of your eye
clover leaves.