Mexico primitivo I

Aqui esta una prueba de que no debo pasar demasiado tiempo en un ambiente calido y heterosexual ... tiendo a cometer actos infames ...




Continuara... [ si, lo lamento pero hay mucho que contar]

To scrf-frk [O lo que es lo mismo de Güilermo para mi hace un par de años de una noche con lluvia]

I

I said I did, if just for a while,
But how could I? A man —or was it
A boy— who comes home after so long
Cannot evoke such fits or strains
Of feeling or heart in one
Who hopes to see him back.

He travelled through eve, when Sky’s
Stained red, and pink, not grey,
And streaked with violet the way.
He carried a bag with three
Pairs of pants, and no number of hats,
For he came before me only at night.

Borrowèd shades covered his eyes,
Not those shades that come with Dawn,
But those that cover and protect
Naïve brown eyes from sudden light.
Such shades he wore as he sped along
Desert’s Halls to come back home.

How could I if, when he approached
His home, he did nought more than
Bring Home to this weary heart?


II

Tonight it is taken from me: my Home,
My Heart, those things for which
I lived last night, fade. Once more
I stand over the broken trunk; I am
Not faun but a wolf, and howl to Moon,
Who last night hid behind his eyes,
I howl for Home shall not be mine.

My Home escapes with him. He moves
Away and leaves no Rain. He moves
Away, desert again, but not for him
—O no! For he belongs to it—
It is for me! It’s I that shall miss
The rain: for sweet it brought the Kiss.

I find my soul barren, my feet soar.
I find my self untrodden, who else
—O who else!— shall trod a desert
He built for pleasure of his own.
He brought Home to me as Rain brought
Kiss, the bliss I long for.

How could I? For him I’m wasted land,
But I wait for Rain —O, I wait
For it will bring him back!


III

He stayed three nights, the third
I did not see. He came Home from
One desert to another —for such I was.
He came Home and brought one too
—For Home he became to me.
A flower bloomed under the rain,
I call it Kiss; he cut it by the stem.

He took the button, I hold to the root.
Stem in a vase, He examines the cup
As He speeds through Desert’s Halls.
He returns holding Beauty by the stem,
Back to Desert, but He leaves one as well!
I took Kiss’s root but not a weed will bloom
On the barren, wasted Desert of my Self.

Desert waited twenty years —or was
It twenty and one— for Rain to arrive.
Rain came, He brought it in a flask,
And the so-long-waited Kiss it felt
Over it’s patched lips and dry.
Then He parted, left Desert alone:
‘Hate you if just for a while’ it cried.

But how could I? Silly Desert, can’t you
See it was ‘cause of him that you and I
Became alive if just for a little while?

Guillermo de León González