Translated from the Spanish by James Richie
Aqueous Logic
A tear is always
a tear
even if its origin
– the well of tears –
doesn’t know about it
doesn’t remember it
doesn’t feel
the slightest bit responsible
for the lost salt.
The tear, all in all,
wants only to roll
downhill
until its lonely
being achieves
its mission to dampen,
having forgiven the well,
which has just gloated over
the tears it produces,
an abyss of reasons
and dry instants.
The eyes of the well,
poor thing,
are always cloudy.
Sensitivity
My nose and ears
mix with my eyes
and my throat
when I scream inwards
and with the scent of fruit
and old music
entering and penetrating
into my red heart
hidden behind the carbon
of Mikhael Sholokhov’s
adulthood
I wept
in my late childhood
and my early old age
only God
is single and univocal
true love
that understands me
