POEM PABLO NERUDA * SEXUAL WATER*

SEXUAL WATER

Rolling to goters alone,
drops like teeth,
to thick drips of jam and blood,
rolling to drips,
the water falls,
like a sword in drops,
like a heartbreaking river of glass,
it bites
hitting the axis of symmetry, hitting 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,
getting thick,
the water falls,
to slow drips,
towards his sea, towards his dry ocean,
To its wave without water.

I see the extensive summer, and a rattle coming out of a barn,
wineries, cicadas,
populations, stimuli,
rooms, girls
sleeping with my hands in my heart,
dreaming of bandits, of fires,
I see ships
I see marrow trees
bristling like rabid cats,
I see blood, daggers and women's stockings,
and man hairs,
I see beds, I see corridors where a virgin shouts,
I see blankets and organs and hotels.

I see stealthy dreams,
I admit the last days,
and also the origins, and also the memories,
like an atrociously raised eyelid
I am looking.

And then there is this sound:
a red noise of bones,
a stick of meat,
and yellow legs like spikes coming together.
I hear between the shot of the kisses,
I listen, shaken between breaths and sobs.

I'm looking, hearing

with half of the soul in the sea and half of 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 drippers.

It's like a jelly hurricane,

like a waterfall of sperm and jellyfish.

I see a cloudy rainbow run.

I see the water passing through the bones.