But this is another poem I am particularly proud of. It was written in Spanish but I wrote an English translation for it. The English translation (for those who know Spanish) of course doesn’t follow the Spanish to a tee, but it had to be written to follow smoothly. I still think it sounds better in Spanish. I’ll put down both versions here. Please excuse any errors in the spanish version – I’m fluent and all but terrible at accents and the such.
I never thought of myself as much of a writer, but here goes:
Seca
El pozo con agua ya podrida –
veo mi piel en su reflejo
Blanca y reseca. Perdio ella el color.
Sangre rosa mis piernas –
Un dolor pasa por mi vientre
Alzo mis manos al cielo –
buscando frutas jugosas
y solamente encuentro la escuridad del cielo.
Y veo en tu cara, con esos ojos grande
Verdes en luz llena
Mirandome con ensegura sinceridad.
Y busco en ellos los que no existe
Lo que en tiempo corto existia en mi.
Y ahora, mi cuerpo tiembla con el frio de la noche
Y reseca mi piel blanca.
Cantando con voz amarga el dolor de no tener –
Y me quedo, Seca.
[English Translation]
Barren-
In a well of rotted water
I see my skin reflected-
Dry and white. She lost her color.
Blood runs down her legs-
Ominous pain runs through my womb
I raise my hands towards the heavens –
looking for fruits whose juices drip
only to find the darkness of the sky –
And I see your face, with large eyes
Who are green in bright light
Watching me with false sincerity
I look in them for what does not exist
For what used to exist in me.
Now, my body shivers in the cold of the night
Drying my white skin
In a bitter voice I sing of what I do not have
And I remain barren.
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