Sergio marquina

Bir yangın ormanından püskürmüş genç fidanlardı

Güneşten ışık yontarlardı sert adamlardı Hoyrattı gülüşleri aydınlığı çalkalardı

Gittiler akşam olmadan ortalık karardı

Bitmez sazların özlemi daha sonra daha sonra Sonranın bilinmezliği bir boyut katar ki onlara Simsiyah bir teselli olur belki kalanlara

It was exactly five in the afternoon.

A boy brought the white sheet

at five in the afternoon.

A basket of lime already prepared

at five in the afternoon.

All the rest was death and only death

at five in the afternoon.

The wind carried off the cotton

at five in the afternoon.

And rust sowed crystal and nickel

at five in the afternoon.

Now the dove and the leopard were fighting

at five in the afternoon.

And a thigh with a desolate horn

at five in the afternoon.

The wounds burned like suns

at five in the afternoon.

And the crowd was breaking the windows

at five in the afternoon.

At five in the afternoon.

Oh, what a terrible five in the afternoon!

It was five on all the clocks!