FROM VEDADO, A CUBAN WRITES TO A DECIDELY EUROPEAN FRIEND

I know you want me to tell you of the tam tam in my blood,
Of the great lustrous jungle where the parrot swoops, screaming,
Of lightning fallen before my eyes,
And Obtala white as snow in fire
(Along with the memories I certainly have of jet trinkets in my shirt, of the cleansing rites for a twelve-year-old)
I know, dear friend, I know you need the savage sap
I can bring you, with a chunk of sun in one hand
And, in the other, the maraca only the milky dawn can finally silence.
But how can I write you with a busted airconditioner,
In this hotel room, this terrible summer day,
La Habana shining at my feet
Like a necklace, full of loud dusty automobiles,
With dozens of restaurants and bars and not a palm in sight?