Verte desnuda es recordar la tierra,
la tierra lisa, limpia de caballos.
La tierra sin un junco, forma pura .
Cerrada al provenir, confin de plata.
Verte desnuda es comprender el ansia
de la lluvia que busca el debil talle,
o de la fiebre del mar de inmenso rostro,
sin encontrar la luz de su mejilla.
La sangre sonara por las alcobas
y vendrá con espadas fulgurantes,
pero tu no sabrás donde se ocultan,
el corazon de sapo o la violeta.
Tu vientre es una lucha de raices,
tus labios son un alba sin contorno,
bajo las rosas tibias de la cama,
los muertos gimen esperando turno.
To turn out to be naked is to remember the ground,
the smooth, clean horses ground.
The ground without a reed, pure form.
Closed on having come, silver limit.
To turn out to be naked is to understand the avidity
of the rain that looks for the weak size,
or of the fever of the sea of immense face,
without finding the light of its cheek.
The blood will sound for the bedrooms
and it will come with shining swords,
but you will not know where they hide,
the heart of toad or the violet.
Your belly is a roots struggle,
your lips are a dawn without outline,
under the lukewarm roses of the bed,
the dead persons wail waiting for shift.
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