"Nadie puede mostrarte como ofrecer tu corazón a la rosa negra de tu sangre en eclipse total."
Veo que has hecho una puerta
del esqueleto
del ala de un pájaro
al que
deberías haber liberado.
Y está cerrada
como un libro que no has leído.
El muro de un
jardín por el que no
has encontrado
la forma de entrar.
Nadie puede
mostrarte
como ofrecer
tu corazón
a la rosa
negra de tu sangre
en eclipse
total. Yo puedo señalar
unas cuantas
estrellas, y decirte sus nombres
pero eso fue
hace muchas estirpes
y ahora están
esperando a las metáforas
surgir de tu
propia boca.
Que las digas
tan profundo
que no puedas
evitar quebrarte hacia la luz.
(I see you've made a gate
of the skeleton of the wing of the bird
you should have set free.
And it's closed like a book you haven't read.
The wall of a garden you haven't
found your way into.
No one can show you
how to offer your heart
to the black rose of your blood
in total eclipse. I could point out
a few stars, and tell you their names
but that was hierarchies ago
and now they're waiting for the metaphors
to come from your own mouth.
of the skeleton of the wing of the bird
you should have set free.
And it's closed like a book you haven't read.
The wall of a garden you haven't
found your way into.
No one can show you
how to offer your heart
to the black rose of your blood
in total eclipse. I could point out
a few stars, and tell you their names
but that was hierarchies ago
and now they're waiting for the metaphors
to come from your own mouth.
To say them so deeply
you can't help breaking into light.)
you can't help breaking into light.)
Patrick White: Patrick Victor Martindale White. Firmaba su poesía como Patrick Victor Martindale.
(Australiano nacido en Londres, 1912-1990). Obtuvo el premio Nobel en 1973.
(Traducido del inglés por Jules Etienne).
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