Tag Archives: sorrow

funcionamiento violento en mí (soneto)

18 Saturday Aug 2012

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, Translation

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¡Usted canta hoy, “te quiero! Te quiero!

Te quiero!” ¿Y qué de él? ¿Guardó

ame en su lado? ¿fantasma gordo que

vaga su paisaje susurrado pararon para llorar

o reírle o hablar? Todos poseemos

secretos. Todos poseemos las pasiones que duermen.

¿Quién no tiene el impulso salvaje de acariciar

o de ser acariciado? Cuando usted piensa en el profundo

las raíces verdes que usted ha empujado en mí, suciedad húmeda

de mi corazón, la dulzura, la señal de socorro,

todas las sensaciones sutiles del desierto

ese funcionamiento violento en mí, le hizo una vez la conjetura

que le desplumaría de este suelo húmedo y porqué?

¿Quién le miraría marchitar y se descolora y muere?

 

sorrow

 

(Today you sing, “I love you! I love you! I love you!” And what of it? Did it keep love at your side? Did any fat ghost who wanders your whispered landscape stop to weep or laugh or speak to you? We all possess secrets. We all possess passions that sleep. Who does not have the wild urge to caress or be caressed? When you think of the deep green roots you have thrust into me, moist dirt of my heart, the tenderness, the distress, all the subtle feelings of the desert that run violent in me, did you once guess who would pluck you from this moist soil and why? Who would watch you wither and fade and die?)

os fantasmas tristes, e todo sozinho

01 Friday Jul 2011

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Mortas vivem comigo.

Fantasmas das virgens

que cometeram suicídio.

Os fantasmas tristes,

e todo sozinho. Todo

amante que morreu de um coração

partido. Durante todo o dia, este

é o que fazemos. Todos os dias,

vemos filmes tristes. Não porque

estamos triste. Não porque nosso

coração está quebrado. Mas esse

vez, todos tivemos uma vontade

de chorar, antes de nos

tornarmos uma família.

Translation:

The dead live with me. Ghosts of virgins who committed suicide. Spirits sad and all alone. Everyone who died of a broken heart. All day long we watch sad movies. Not because we’re sad. Not because our hearts are broken. But once we all had the need to cry. Before we became a family.

come quicker

28 Friday May 2010

Posted by in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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Come. Come quicker. All in one exhale. All
in the space of a breathe. So much time with
nothing but hunger. I’m a willow, tall
and lean, but without roots. Without the myth
of roots. Come. Come quickly. I will wait, sprawl
on the bed, drunk with new hunger for you.
Drunk with risk and possibilities, all
that makes life worth the pain. I want some new
risks; give me danger. Come now. Come with speed.
Come with a shout, a whimper. Come with greed,
with want, come to me to feed your loathsome
passions, each rotten wish. Come bare, honeyed,
brilliant. Come in joy, in rage, in frenzied
need, in ecstasy. Come, love. Please, just come.