Sunday, June 05, 2011
Out Of Blood And Love
Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove
From so much loving and journeying, books emerge.
And if they don't contain kisses or landscapes,
if they don't contain a man with his hands full,
if they don't contain a woman in every drop,
hunger, desire, anger, roads,
they are no use as a shield or as a bell:
they have no eyes, and won't be able to open them,
they have the dead sound of precepts.
I loved the entanglings of genitals,
and out of blood and love I carved my poems.
In hard earth I brought a rose to flower,
fought over by fire and dew.
That's how I could keep on singing.
(trans. from the Spanish by Alastair Reid)