Age does not diminish the intensity of feeling
Lautréamont
You and I, fragile branches
that bloomed in the cracks
Of a sinister city
Of merchants and dancers
In your livid complexion the affection
Unscathed as a cloudless twilight
Wood for the walls, the mountains
Of the eternal matter, the feeling
Your unexpected departure is my departure
Where have you gone?
Your hugs, your answers, they still come back
Where, little sister, my friend?
Why did you come, Cristina?
To suffer the Universe?
The forests, the cities; were they ours?
My tears still fall on your days
You loved. Were you born then? Did you pass away?
Life happens; love, on the other hand, is for ever
Allende, your innocence is reborn at dawn
Over the gray laughter and the sour nights
In cardboard cruise ships we cross the sea
On a platform as wide as the Caribbean Sea
Yellow birds cawed under a blue sky
Of air sweetened by fallen fruits
My arms were trails of sand,
Columns you clung to
Hearing rumors, seeing
Ogres and gorgons, mirages on the water
In your immense life is my childhood
Not in the black days, segregated
Neither in the convictions, nor in the street brawls
Not even in public executions, far away
The face that I discover before the mirror is alien to me
I lost mine one morning in March,
On the outskirts of a suburb;
His firmament, his waters, still await him
Mocked and tempered
On the traces of Gethsemane,
With that that blood in that sand
I rediscover your affection in other faces
Other voices will remind you, Cristina,
Without your agony I’d never have understood
The immeasurableness of a love
Nor the wide prairies of the eternal.
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