Amanezco

Slow Saturday morning sun-limbs
stretch in gold    
sprawling smoothly
over ridges of tousled sheets
and dense mounds of me.

Soft skimming sun-fingers
slide sweetly
through lumps of greasy hair
and spaces between lazy eyelashes.

Amber dew-sap sun drips
from on the wall above the dresser
into neglected water glasses
spilling over a half dozen equally neglected books
each with tiny corners of pages bent in upon themselves
like little promises saying,

"Lovely words, I will return to admire you,
underline you, rewrite you in a letter to a friend.
Lovely words I will not forget you."

 

El Despertar/The Awakening por Alejandra Pizarnik

Señor

La jaula se ha vuelto pájaro

y se ha volado

y mi corazón esta loco

porque aúlla a la muerte

y sonríe detrás del viento

a mis delirios

Que hare con el miedo

Que hare con el miedo

Ya no baila la luz en mi sonrisa

ni las estaciones queman palomas en mis ideas

Mis manos se han desnudado

y se han ido donde la muerte

enseña a vivir a los muertos

Señor

El aire me castiga el ser

Detrás del aire hay monstruos

que beben de mi sangre

Es el desastre

Es la hora del vacío no vacío

Es el instante de poner cerrojo a los labios oir a los condenados gritar

ahorcados en la nada.

Señor

Tengo veinte años 

También mis ojos tienen veinte años

y sin embargo no dicen nada

Señor

He consumado mi vida en un instante

La ultima inocencia estallo

Ahora es nunca o jamas

o simplemente fue

Como no me suicide frente a un espejo

y desaparezco para reaparecer en el mar

donde un gran barco me esperaría

con las luces encendidas?

Como no me extraigo las venas

y hago con ellas una escala

para huir al orto lado de la noche?

El principio ha dado a luz el final

Todo continuara igual

Las sonrisas gastadas

El intres interesado

Las gesticulaciones que remedan amor

Todo continuara igual

Pero mis brazos insisten en abrazar el mundo

porque aun no les enseñaron

que ya es demasiado tarde

Señor

Arroja los féretros de mi sangre

Recuerdo mi niñez

cuando yo era una anciana

las flores morían en mis manos

porque la danza salvaje de la alegria

les destruía el corazón

Recuerdo las negras mañanas del sol

cuando era niña

es decir ayer

es decir siglos

Señor

La jaula se ha vuelto pájaro

y ha devorado mis esperanzas

Señor

La jaula se ha vuelto pájaro

Qué haré con el miedo

The Awakening

Lord

The cage has become a bird

and has flown away

and my heart is crazy

because it howls at death

and smiles behind the wind

at my ravings

What will I do with my fear

What will I do with my fear

Light no longer dances in my smile

nor do seasons burn doves in my ideas

My Hands have undresses

and gone where death

teaches the dead to live

lord

The air punishes my being

Behind the wind there are monsters

that drink my blood

It is a disaster

It is the hour of emptiness not empty

It is the moment to bolt the lips closed

to hear the condemned ones scream

to contemplate each one of my names

hung in the nothingness

Lord

I am twenty years old

My eyes are also twenty years old

Yet they say nothing

Lord

I have consumed my life in an instant

The last innocence shattered

Now it is never or nevermore

or it simply left

How is it that I did not kill myself in front of a mirror

or disappear to reappear in the sea

where a great ship would await me

with its lights burning?

How is it that I did not pull out my veins

and build a ladder with them

to flee to the other side of the night?

The beginning has given birth to the end

Everything will continue like this

The spent smiles

The interesting interest

The gesticulations that mimic love

Everything will continue like this

But my arms insist on embracing the world

because they still haven't been taught

and it's already too late

Lord

Throw the coffins out of my blood

I remember my childhood

when I was an old woman

The flowers would die in my hands

because the savage dance of joy

destroyed their hearts

I remember the black mornings of sun

when I was a child

which is to say yesterday

which is to say centuries ago

Lord

The cage has become a bird

and has devoured my hopes

Lord

The cage has become a bird

What will I do with my fear

Erotic Spring

Mornings wet with waiting
with longing
wet with yearning
to keep blooming
to bring blooming
to bloom to burst in the heat.

Wet with wanting to burst.

Dripping afternoons
sap of my spring
waning sun shows pearly
droplets drizzle down
my dandelion leafs.

Falling night reveals my
saltwater blue skies
raining.

Moisture beacons
welcomes
warrants entry
into my blooming
my bursting
body
come inside
out
burst with me.