sábado, 1 de diciembre de 2012

The word



The word, sweet ivy in a dark labyrinth
twirling inside and wiping away desire.
To every morsel of ice that now convenes
it shows its split open and warmed milk breast.

The word, voice of silence, love's conundrum,
bloodstain that looks after my dream.
A hand lashing full of pain
breaks a silvery sound with a gold and honey tint.

Never will the word be able to dance
if the stain doesn’t unlock the door,
and the fright, in abundance, razes its dawn.

                                                           Trans. by Jèssica Pujol

2 comentarios:

  1. The word, voice of silence, love's conundrum...makes me think, wakes me up into a world of whites...and reds. Looking forward to seeing you and hugging you.

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  2. Thanks for your most kind and beautiful words Andreu. Me too looking forward to hugging you...

    ResponderEliminar