SEXUAL WATER PABLO NERUD Sexual water POEM

SEXUAL WATER
PABLO NERUD Sexual water

Rolling to single drops,
drop like teeth,
to thick drops of jam and blood,
rolling to drops,
the water falls,
like a sword in drops,
like a heartbreaking river of glass,
it falls biting,
hitting the axis of symmetry, hitting on the seams of the
soul,
breaking abandoned things, soaking the dark.
It's just a breath, wetter than crying,
a liquid, a sweat, an unnamed oil,
a sharp movement,
becoming, thickening,
the water falls,
to slow drips,
towards its sea, towards its dry ocean,
to his wave without water.
I see the summer long, and a rattle coming out of a barn,
wineries, cicadas,
populations, stimuli,
rooms, girls
sleeping with your hands in your heart,
dreaming of bandits, with fires,
I see boats,
I see pith trees
bristling like rabid cats,
I see blood, daggers and women's stockings,
and hairs of man,
I see beds, I see corridors where a virgin shouts,
I see blankets and organs and hotels.
I see the secretive dreams,
I admit the last days,
and also the origins, and also the memories,
like an eyelid atrociously lifted by force
I am looking.
And then there is this sound:
a red noise of bones,
a sticking of meat,
and yellow legs like spikes coming together.
I listen between the shot of the kisses,
I listen, shaken between breaths and sobs.
I'm watching, hearing,
with half the soul in the sea and half the soul
on earth,
and with the two halves of the soul I look at the world.
and even if I close my eyes and cover my heart entirely,
I see a dull water fall,
to deaf drips.
It's like a gelatine hurricane,
like a cataract of sperm and jellyfish.
I see a cloudy rainbow running.
I see the water passing through the bones.
TO.