Song

 

Solely the fish do not drown in water,

Solely the worms and the moles do not choke with clods of earth

the slender bird becomes an ark

solely by flying.

Stricken by angels wings in flutter,

I fix my eyes on you,

my sweetheart, the one who makes

my ‘alas’, my ‘oh’, my ‘ouch’ bleed !

Today my vowel is filthy,

adulterated with mud,

my lofty sweetheart,

who disconsented to our twosome.

The shirt of my speech

is soaked with sweat, begrimed,

in the tear of pondering, squalid with salt.

 

Solely my coldness befriends

church spires.

Unhurriedly, I comb the ferns

in time’s long mane,

I sanguinarily cut it with my body,

the flesh scissors for cutting iron.

 

 

She

 

Wilfully done, wilfully done,

now when I love her the most,

I have wilfully lied to her.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when she loves me utterly,

I have wilfully overshadowed her.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when she is contemplating me

I am singing sorrow.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when she is the fairest amidst the world

of my stars,

I am turning a blind eye.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when I can grasp her grace

suffusing all the city’s walls

I am turning a deaf ear.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when I feel she is yearning for me

I am offending my friends

unbearable of my profound longing for her.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when she is ironing her checked dress

out of affection for me,

here I am cleansing my spears in benzene

to thrust them into beasts and vultures.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when I am supposed to be

embraced by an amorous pursuit,

I prolong myself into dreaming

for fear of being happy.

Wilfully done, wilfully done

now when she is radiating from her heart’s luminousness,

I keep reading about all the novae

and all the exploded stars

and I lengthen myself like the longest street in the city

and I lay asphalt on myself

and I dress myself in snowfall and ice,

so that she, my dearest, my divinest,

might slip while walking

thus falling and hurting her ankle,

which, goodness knows,

I haven’t kissed for so long.

After all,

who would dare to kiss an ankle

unless it limps ?!

 

English version by Gabriela PACHIA