TASTE
I
a late harvest
sweet and cold
Chilean wine
The winter sun
gave long shadows
on this distant soltice
And we laughed
and on the table
I put no tablecloth
no metal cutlery
nor cloth
nor linen
nor lace
You stretched out
and I drank your skin
and instead of plates
blonde hair
and instead of cutlery
your legs
and instead of glasses
your buttocks
And I ran for pillows
And I filled my mouth with you
And you gave me
the wine
On your lips
And the table
and the dessert
was you
And this was the shortest day
Of the dying autumn
And of the rising winter
And I lived it between your legs
And the carpet was red
And you were almost dressed
in green and light blue
and the Arabian music
on the shores of the Pacific
of the raging sea
and your blonde hair
blond
on the red
red
and sometimes blue lightning
in front of the slow fire
of the cooker
A mixture of bloods
yours Catalan and German
Andalusian, Basque and Mapuche
mine
or maybe Diaguita
or Inca?
Blessed mixtures
of eternal sounds
of the raging sea
of long green waves
combed with long black huiros
and of the music I heard
in Jalab so many years ago.
And you lie on the red
and I hear the wave drumming
and I see orderly rows of pelicans
flying over the roiling wave
and I see the silence of the southern sky
full of lights
reflected
in the vault of your bosom
in the bay of your navel
faint
When I would die
and I want to go to the eternal West
and I will remember
red and blonde
blonde and green
and your mouth
and your teeth
Swirl of intense
intense
An unexpected prize
for the one who came back
to die
with no more
Because I thought I had it all
I had it all
in the learned land
of my exile
And here
where every day trembles
where we don't know if the receding sea
will be just a lunar artefact
one more tide
o
will be returned to us as a wall of water
immense
destructive
renewing
of us all
Sea water
our daily water
have no pity on us
If you think you must flood us
with your giant seaweed
with your sea urchins
with your fish
Come
Come and amaze us
with your perpetual green
with your thunder of gods
Come and try to take us with you
Come now
and forever
And if you succeed
You'll be happy among all the waves
That tried before you
While you make up your mind
While I wait for you
we will enjoy
of every second you grant us
O ancient sea
O dangerous sea
oh ocean sea
And I will do it
on my table
with my tablecloth
and my food
of skin
Come
for you will find me
in that thundering hour
happy
because once again
I am whole
whole
Skin and soul
brain and senses
I have reunited
after the long exile
and I anchor myself again
on the urgency of the moment
on the cloud of the north
and the south wind
on your moans
on the trembling of the skin
and the ground
and I anchor myself to fight
and I anchor myself to understand
Because in surrender
giving all
everything
the soul is charged with reasons
and understands better
that living to give
is the essence
the lesson
that this ocean of American life
gives
to the one who patiently
learns
to see by looking
to listen by hearing
and to live by loving
Igor Parra archaeologist found this in "in Archaeology of Passions" and translated it
