A LOVE POEM

I don't know. I ignore it.

I don't know how long I was there

without finding it again.

Maybe a century? Perhaps.

Maybe a little less: ninety-nine years.

Or a month? It could be. In any way,

a huge, huge, huge time.

 

Finally, like a sudden rose,

sudden trembling bellflower,

the news.

suddenly know

that he was going to see her again, that he would have her

close, tangible, real, like in her dreams.

What a contained explosion!

what a dull thunder

rolling in my veins,

exploding up there

under my blood, in a

nocturnal storm!

And the discovery, right away? And the way

to greet us, in a way

that no one understood

that that is our own way?

Just a touch, an electrical contact,

a conspiratorial squeeze, a look,

a heartbeat

screaming, howling with a silent voice.

 

After

(you already know this since you were fifteen)

that flutter of imprisoned words,

low-eyed words,

penitentials,

between enemy witnesses.

Still

a love of "I love him",

of "you", of "I would very much like to,

but it's impossible"... From "we can't,

No, you think better about it"...

 

It's a love like that,

It is a love of the abyss in spring,

courteous, cordial, happy, fatal.

The farewell, then,

generic,

in the confusion of friends.

See her leave and love her like never before;

follow her with her eyes,

and without eyes continue seeing her far from her,

far away, and still follow her

even further away,

made of night,

bite, kiss, insomnia,

poison, ecstasy, convulsion,

sigh, blood, death...

Done

of that known substance

with which we knead a star.

 

Nicolás Guillén

 

 

Mistwold, Rosehaven Eventide (47, 175, 29) - Moderado

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Rosehaven%20Eventide/47/17...

Done