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Recitado por Juan José Torres

Poem 8
White bee buzzing, drunk with honey in my soul,
you turn in slow spirals of smoke.

I am the hopeless one, the echoless word,
he who lost all, who had all.

Last mooring, my last anguish sounds in you.
In my desert earth, you are the last rose.

Ah, silent woman!

Close your intense eyes. There flutters the night.
Ah, your timorous, naked, statuesque body.

The night beats in those intense eyes you have.
Flowering fresh arms and a lap of rose.

Your breasts resemble the white shells of snails.
There has come to sleep in your belly a butterfly of shadow.

Ah, silent woman!

There is here the solitude from which you are absent.
It rains. The sea wind hunts the roving gulls.

Water wanders shoeless through the wet streets.
From that tree’s infirm leaves come complaints.

White, absent bee, still you buzz in my soul.
With time you come back to life, slim and silent.

Ah, silent woman!

Translation: Terence Clarke