You woke up this morning by the beach,
with a poem written on your skin,
A poem I wrote with symbols, not words just feelings,
A poem dissolved by saliva and now part of you and me.
We shared dried fish and tobacco leaves by the river,
Where Japanese ladies lay asleep at the bottom,
Where empty streets lead to thoughts no one ever had,
And where your arms spread out like a rotating fan,
Stretching out, fading away like a Doppler effect,
Hurting in silence, like a curse carved in stone.
A green beam of light guides my journey into the dark,
Where stars can no longer be seen,
And my life is no longer a struggle,
Just a long slumber,
A 1000-year hitchhike into the outer arms of the Milky Way
Y aqui estoy, de noche solo en la lavanderia,
Observando como la ropa en cada maquina da vueltas,
Pensando si poetas malditos, amantes imposibles, politicos y sicarios,
Si todo el espectro humano no habra hecho lo mismo que yo,
Y no haya llegado a alguna revelacion, a dar con esta idea,
Que en lo mundano hay claves para descifrar lo trascendente,
Y que estas maquinas posesas son como las ruedas del destino,
Sin llamar la atencion,
Canticos que alguien demente sabra interpretar.
And here I am, late at night, alone at the laundromat,
Watching how people’s clothes slowly spin inside each machine,
Wondering whether cursed poets, doomed lovers, politicians and killers-for-hire,
Have ever had this epiphany,
Than the very mundane holds clues to understand what is transcendent,
And that these machines resemble the wheels of destiny,
Murmuring chants that only a deranged mind may comprehend.
In the dark, I press your breasts tightly,
They are large and plentiful, beautiful,
Then your hands push my hardened flesh inside yours, slowly,
You moan and tremble, twisting your body against mine.
We mate in a magic ritual,
Intense and mystical,
Like jaguars in the forest,
Creating life and joy, like the first rains of May.
I smell your skin,
Youth, Lust, Madness, that is your smell,
And the smell binds me to you,
To the wonders of your body,
And to your life in ways I can not understand.
Two nights ago I had this vision,
Of myself lying in a chair,
Lying peacefully dead in a dusty room,
While the sunset pierced the blinds,
And hit a brown glass bottle of rum,
Our last farewell,
Fifty years into the future.