By JAVIER MEDINA BERNAL We’ve Walked for Centuries During These Early Hours (fragments). National Poetry Award Ricardo Miró 2011 1 Fifteen years ago I opened my eyes, looked outside the window and saw it was raining. Then, I closed my eyes. I’ve reopened them today and I see it’s still raining. There are men on the street who beat the mix; that is, they combine concrete with water and sand. They’ll build a house. The men work under the rain. It’s a think rain. Rain can be thin. It rains, but it’s hot. It’s always hot when it rains. I close my eyes again. 2 Will it be raining if I open them in fifteen years? I don’t know. I feel it will. I’m exhausted. I have no reason to be worn out. I’m in bed. I don’t move, not even a muscle. I don’t mix concrete, I don’t even raise a finger, I don’t like working. Work does not make you nobler, it brutalizes you, I think. The pick and the spade, to work without any more delay. No. In sum. It rains. 3 I’d like to dance under the rain. What does it mean to dance under the rain? Vigour, smile, shuddering shoulders, youth, innocence a word carried by the wind, flirting? Hope? My hope dances under the rain. 68 4 The rain increases. I can feel it on the roof of my house. It’s hot. The rain will soon bring thunder. I love thunder. There are leaks in my roof. If I turn my head to the left I can see the mosaic where the drops fall. The mosaic is yellow with streaks of green. The green streaks look like islands on a yellow sea. The mosaic could also be the fur of a green-striped tiger. Then the water would fall on the tiger. The water tortures the tiger. The tiger is submitted to the torture. My room is a dungeon of tortures. And what if the leak fell on my chest? The drops would dig a hole and given time a wee pond of rain and lumps of skin would form. I’d put my finger in the pond and would taste the water, and just like that, all of a sudden, I think of how many things I’d discover about life, time and space, that is, life.