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mis oscuros delirios
09 Sunday Sep 2012
Posted in Erotic, Poetry, Translation
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09 Sunday Sep 2012
Posted in Erotic, Poetry, Translation
≈ Comments Off on mis oscuros delirios
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06 Thursday Sep 2012
Posted in Erotic, Poetry, Translation
≈ Comments Off on el poeta en el trabajo
Hoy. Usted escribe.
Mis dedos recorren
en todo tu cuerpo.
Tu coño empapado,
en mis manos,
un rebosante copa.
Se abre una hendidura
mojada. Mi lengua
es difícil,
penetrante,
convocando
esta loco
cosecha.
El vino
de placer
en tu cuerpo
causando
espasmos
y gemidos.
Hoy.
(Today. You write. My fingers roam throughout your body. Your pussy drenched in my hands, a brimming cup. A wet slit opens. My tongue is hard, penetrating, summoning this crazy harvest. The wine of pleasure in your body causing spasms and moans. Today.)
05 Wednesday Sep 2012
Posted in story
≈ Comments Off on the story of ferdinand
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Not everything in this world is erotic, nor does it need to be. There is time enough for all sorts of tenderness. This story is for all of us dreamers who were the type of children who would rather just “smell the flowers,” as the story goes. I was read this when I was a child. ¡Viva Ferdinand!
THE STORY OF FERDINAND
by Munro Leaf
Once upon a time in Spain there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand. All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their heads together, but not Ferdinand. He liked to sit just quietly and smell the flowers. He had a favorite spot out in the pasture under a cork tree. It was his favorite tree and he would sit in its shade all day and smell the flowers.
Sometimes his mother, who was a cow, would worry about him. She was afraid he would be lonesome all by himself. “Why don’t you run and play with the other little bulls and skip and butt your head?” she would say. But Ferdinand would shake his head. “I like it better here where I can sit just quietly and smell the flowers.” His mother saw that he was not lonesome, and because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him just sit there and be happy.
As the years went by Ferdinand grew and grew until he was very big and strong. All the other bulls who had grown up with him in the same pasture would fight each other all day. They would butt each other and stick each other with their horns. What they wanted most of all was to be picked to fight at the bull fights in Madrid. But not Ferdinand — he still liked to sit just quietly under the cork tree and smell the flowers.
One day five men came in very funny hats to pick the biggest, fastest roughest bull to fight in the bull fights in Madrid. All the other bulls ran around snorting and butting, leaping and jumping so the men would think that they were very very strong and fierce and pick them. Ferdinand knew that they wouldn’t pick him and he didn’t care.
So he went out to his favorite cork tree to sit down. He didn’t look where he was sitting and instead of sitting on the nice cool grass in the shade he sat on a bumble bee. Well, if you were a bumble bee and a bull sat on you what would you do? You would sting him. And that is just what this bee did to Ferdinand. Wow! Did it hurt! Ferdinand jumped up with a snort. he ran around puffing and snorting, butting and pawing the ground as if he were crazy.
The five men saw him and they all shouted with joy. here was the largest and fiercest bull of all. Just the one for the bull fights in Madrid! So they took him away for the bullfight day in a cart.
What a day it was! Flags were flying, bands were playing … and all the lovely ladies had flowers in their hair. They had a parade into the bull ring. First came the Banderilleros with long sharp pins with ribbons on them to stick in the bull and make him mad. Next came the Picadores who rode skinny horses and they had long spears to stick in the bull and make him madder. Then came the Matador, the proudest of all — he thought he was very handsome, and bowed to the ladies. He had a red cape and a sword and was supposed to stick the bull last of all. Then came the bull, and you know who that was don’t you? — FERDINAND.
They called him Ferdinand the Fierce and all of the Banderilleros were afraid of him and the Picadores were afraid of him and the Matador was scared stiff. Ferdinand ran to the middle of the ring and everyone shouted and clapped because they thought he was going to fight fiercely and butt and snort and stick his horns around. But not Ferdinand. When he got to the middle of the ring he saw the flowers in all the lovely ladies’ hair and he just sat down quietly and smelled.
He wouldn’t fight and be fierce no matter what they did. He just sat and smelled. And the Banderilleros were mad and the Picadores were madder and the Matador was so mad he cried because he couldn’t show off with his cape and sword.
So they had to take Ferdinand home.
And for all I know he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly.
He is very happy.
03 Monday Sep 2012
Nada es mío. Nada
es totalmente mío.
Esa es la droga llamada
el erotismo. Seducción.
Y me encanta esta droga.
Me encanta que nadie
puede hacerte temblar
de placer, como lo hago.
Me encanta que nadie
accederá a tus mas profundos
deseos, como lo hago.
A pesar de todo esto,
usted continúa a soñar
besando a un extraño.
Mañana, usted dice.
Cuando llegue mañana.
(Nothing is mine. Nothing is totally mine. That’s the drug called eroticism. Seduction. And I love this drug. I love that no one can make you tremble with pleasure, as I do. I love that nobody will access your deepest desires, as I do. Despite all this, you continue to dream of kissing a stranger. Tomorrow, you say. When tomorrow comes)
02 Sunday Sep 2012
30 Thursday Aug 2012
Posted in Erotic, Poetry, Translation
≈ Comments Off on ajeno deseo
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Ahora solas, sentí tus labios
mientras tú me besó.
Me comí mi propio miedo.
Llamaron a usted un monstruo,
sino eras tan hermosa que yo
no tenía palabras. Usted
pone tus garras en mi boca,
en busca de el éxtasis
de una orgasmo; en un siseo
que podría haber sido la muerte
de un animal pequeño o un sueño
cumplido. Yo vivía con tu el olor
de la muerte y sexo.
Yo vivía con mi sangre
y con tu ajeno deseo.
Todos los amantes
famosos eran monstruo.
(Now alone, I felt your lips while you kissed me. I ate my own fear. They called you a monster, but you were so beautiful that I had no words. You put your claws in my mouth, looking for the ecstasy of orgasm in a hiss that could have been the death of a small animal or a dream fulfilled. I lived with a smell of death and sex. I lived with my blood and your alien desire. All famous lovers were monsters.)
29 Wednesday Aug 2012
Tags
biblical erotica, Cain, forbidden, incest, sister, Spanish, translation
Hermana de Cain, sin nombre.
Un deseo prohibida.
Una secreta pasión.
Una delicia terrenal.
Diario vivir, respirar segundo
a segundo. Ella aún recordó cuando
las dedos de ella hermano, jugaban
con los tetinas de ella senos.
Érase una vez había un jardín
del deseo. Caín tuvo relaciones
sexuales con su hermana,
provocando un estallido
de humedad en ese lugar calido
y ardiente de ella intimidad.
Ella quedó embarazada y dio
a luz a Enoc. ¿sino prohibida?
Era la Amanecer de la Humanidad.
Todo estaba delicioso.
(Cain’s sister, unnamed. A desire forbidden. A secret passion. An earthly delight. Daily living, breathing second to second. She still remembered when her brother’s fingers played with the nipples of her breasts. Once upon a time there was a garden of desire. Cain had sex with his sister, causing a burst of moisture in that warm and fiery place of her privacy. She became pregnant and gave birth to Enoch. But forbidden? It was the dawn of mankind. Everything was delicious)
29 Wednesday Aug 2012
Posted in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, sonnet, Translation
≈ Comments Off on rojo bambu (soneto)
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Primero compré un lanzamiento del bambú rojo, menos
que un pie, y tomó abajo anguila-como la lámina
con la manija de la quijada del boquete. Debo confesar
tomó un día para tallarlos. Estoy asustado
tres eran todos lo que podría dominar. Entonces encontré
el viejo pote de arcilla formado fuera de nightshade
y sangre. La llené y después encendí un redondo
encienda abajo de punto bajo. Tallé una pregunta y puse
en un desecho de madera, lo fijó para arder: ¿quién
hay fuera de? Los fuegos crackled hasta que
A.M.E.X.Q. fue deletreado. ¿Qué blithesome
el alcohol es usted, amor? Después: Le espero.
Mi corte de bambú pasado era rezo: ¿cuándo
usted vendrá? ¿Alcohol de la prisa – cuándo usted vendrá?
][][
(First I bought a shoot of red bamboo, less than a foot, and took down the eel-like blade with the gap jaw handle. I must confess it took a day to carve them. I’m afraid three was all I could master. Then I found the old clay pot fashioned out of nightshade and blood. I filled it and then lit a round fire down low. I carved a question and laid it on a wood scrap, set it to blaze: who is out there? The fires crackled until A.M.E.X.Q. was spelled. What blithesome spirit are you, love? Next: I wait for you. My last bamboo cutting was prayer: when will you come? Hurry spirit — when will you come?)
29 Wednesday Aug 2012
Posted in Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, Translation
≈ Comments Off on debajo de ti
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“Y parece que todo el mundo en toda
la ronda mundo está abajo en mí,”
— Janis Joplin
Esta noche soñé contigo, Janis.
Tu lengua jugaba con la mía, mezclándose
tu dicha con la mía. Estabas sudada,
excitada, mojada y furiosa.
Tenias tus manos en mi cabeza,
con mi lengua dentro tus vientre,
y tu espalda contra la pared.
Esta noche, hermanita, estoy “debajo
de ti.” No sé si los muertos
pueden tener orgasmos.
Pero, Janis, esta noche mi boca
está llena de tu dicha.
][][
(This night I dreamed about you, Janis. Your tongue played with mine, mixing your bliss with mine. Were sweaty, excited, wet and angry. You had your hands on my head, with my tongue in your belly, and your back against the wall. Tonight, sister, I am “down on you.” I do not know if the dead can have orgasms. But Janis, tonight my mouth is filled with your bliss.)
23 Thursday Aug 2012
Posted in .gif, Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry
≈ Comments Off on voy a bajar, Janis/ I’m going down, Janis
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art, gif, girl on fire, Poetry
“Y parece que todo
el mundo en toda
la ronda mundo
está abajo en mí,”
– Janis Joplin?
Voy a bajar, Janis.
Tu vello púbico
enredados
en las cortas caricias de mi
respiración. Mi lengua lame
tus polvo de tumba olores.
Esta noche, parece que todo
el mundo en
toda la ronda
mundo está abajo en usted.
Un millón de las lenguas
que lamen. O tal vez sólo
la mía. Me encanta cuando
los muertos
tienen orgasmos.
Janis, mi boca está
llena de tu leche.
(I’m going down, Janis. Your pubic hair entangled in the short strokes of my breath. My tongue licking your grave dust odors. Tonight, it seems that everyone in the whole round world is down on you. A million tongues licking. Or maybe just mine. I love it when the dead have orgasms. Janis, my mouth is full of your cum)