Over at Alex.Tango.Fuego 's blog, I found out poet and novelist Mario Benedetti had died. Alex posted Bandoneon - a moving and appropriate work, I think.
Here is another one I've always loved from Only in the Meantime, translated by Harry Morales. You can read a large portion of that book on Google Books' site here: http://tinyurl.com/qyjfed
It's true, somewhat silent trees surround me,
they appear on the landscape as if they're searching for me
but I also look for myself and have desperately forgotten my lips.
I've just returned from the last silence
and God was present or something like God
punctually desolating my dream.
I suffered like one suffers, very happily,
lying here on the land, almost uninhabited,
asking, not asking, letting myself be taken.
And God was present, or something like God
intentionally disenchanting my solitude.
Nevertheless now I'm surrounded
by the relatives in my deserted world:
the brother sky, the sister afternoon,
the pink cloud coming across the sky.
It's true, they surround me,
they appear on they appear on the landscape as if they're searching for me.
They are the molecules of the infinite God,
perhaps God himself or something like God
but they intercede between Him and I.
Don't forget me,
I won't be able to seize God,