Praise for a Color
Yellow infers from itself papayas and their pulp,
At noon: bees, sweet stinger and honey.
Whole eggs and their nucleus, the ovum.
This interior thing, miniscule.
From the blackness of the blind viscera,
hot and yellow, the miniscule speck,
the luminous grain.
Yellow spreads and smooths, a downpour
of the pure light of its name,
Yellow turns on, turns up the heat,
a charmed flute,
an oboe in Bach.
—translated from the Portuguese by Ellen Watson