Antología bilingüe del San Diego Poetry Annual 2016-17
El seis de febrero salió en Estados Unidos In Vivo , la antología bilingüe del San Diego Poetry Annual 2016-17 distribuido en bibliotecas y universidades del sur de California, y utilizado como texto en las clases de creación literaria. Leer un poema mío traducido en inglés es realmente una impresión, porque jamás pensé que mis palabras pudiesen adoptar otra forma escrita que no fuese la materna o la de adopción. Gracias Ana Ross. Gracias Olga Gutierrez Garcia.
Seven of Hearts, translation by ANA ROSSHANDLER
Seven of Hearts, translation by ANA ROSSHANDLER
Slowly and with crafted penmanship,
does a stew simmers
when a palpable man and woman entwine through
legs
arms
fingers
tongue
til the last fitting knot is exhausted.
A surrendering heart
breaking lose from its cage
just like a rose exposed
at your voraciousness‘s mercy
blending flows of naked skin
just like a coffee bean
with a bubble‘s devotion to its embolus.
You rest your face between my tits
to listen to my pulse,
the flutter you‘ve flown back to my throat
and moon indwelled.
You, who lifted me up from the mire
rust scabbed
amebae drilling my corneas,
my mouth streaming orange fish.
You, who upheld my spirit,
music flushing away slime from my cuts
to embody a shiver down my knees,
orbiting my lips towards yours,
a ring circling its planet.
You, who clamored,
Enough! Flee from poetic death.
Breathe. Nest the sky in your veins,
Love ‗neath the melting pot of my body.
Feel an aviary triangle
for I am not a dream.
I bleed each time you soar the horizon,
a Venus‘ mount eroding.
Forget. Drink from my mouth
and meet oblivion.
Lluïsa Lladó
does a stew simmers
when a palpable man and woman entwine through
legs
arms
fingers
tongue
til the last fitting knot is exhausted.
A surrendering heart
breaking lose from its cage
just like a rose exposed
at your voraciousness‘s mercy
blending flows of naked skin
just like a coffee bean
with a bubble‘s devotion to its embolus.
You rest your face between my tits
to listen to my pulse,
the flutter you‘ve flown back to my throat
and moon indwelled.
You, who lifted me up from the mire
rust scabbed
amebae drilling my corneas,
my mouth streaming orange fish.
You, who upheld my spirit,
music flushing away slime from my cuts
to embody a shiver down my knees,
orbiting my lips towards yours,
a ring circling its planet.
You, who clamored,
Enough! Flee from poetic death.
Breathe. Nest the sky in your veins,
Love ‗neath the melting pot of my body.
Feel an aviary triangle
for I am not a dream.
I bleed each time you soar the horizon,
a Venus‘ mount eroding.
Forget. Drink from my mouth
and meet oblivion.
Lluïsa Lladó
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