I
We forget the flesh
from which we've born;
We forget the crosses,
the given roses
by a bleeding and scented womb;
We forget the water
from which We've been forged;
and, however, We dare to be hungry,
we dare to ask for more water...
We dare to be hungrier
unthinkingly about our eyes;
everything, so, seems an abyss
(Who knows if our mouths are not an abyss).
We dare to take the souls,
unfinished heart (so, we want to mould the ashes);
take every colour of alliums.
We've come from water (Thales said it)
as We burnt, firstly, in the ground,
because, firstly, We've been a simple mud,
an amorphous ball of mud
(I repeat, who knows if were we a ball)
and then, we achieved to be a moss
who filled every corner of earth.
What are we, but a few abandoned sparks
in the vastness of Universe.
II
.... in this way I talk you, beautiful death.
Look at you, it's dying a little (In Spanish, I refer to it;
but the English gives me
ineffable syllables, liquid words
to drown me in your beauty).
My dear,
in this writing, my control is precarious,
but I can still send you little things,
like the honey is sweeter in your mouths,
the sky is bluer in your eyes.
Tell me, what would you tear out to me?
Perhaps, the nights, the twilights?
The night sky is unique;
It's vast, cold and silent;
But, you.
You don't know how the universe act,
you stay in the ground
looking at me how I move away.
