por vena de coral o celeste desnudo.
Mañana los amores serán rocas y el Tiempo
una brisa que viene dormida por las ramas.
Federico Garcia Lorca, Oda a Whitman.
May a man, if he chooses, steer his desire
through coral vein or naked blue.
Tomorrow, these loves will be stones and Time
a breeze that comes asleep through the branches.
Three things, imagine a triangle:
First, Lorca's love for Whitman, sweet and sticky honey, and the butterflies in their beards.
Second, the heat and danger of bikes on Bushwick Ave, the confusion.
Third, the fruit already ripe in July, cherries at the market too sweet to eat, the lilies bloomed and passing:
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario