PABLO NERUDA POEM, SEX WATER ROLLING in drops alone,

 

SEX WATER

ROLLING in drops alone,

drops like teeth

to thick drops of jam and blood,

rolling in drops

the water falls,

like a sword in drops,

like a heartrending river of glass,

falls biting,

hitting the axis of symmetry, hitting the seams of the soul,

breaking abandoned things, drenching the dark.

It's just a breath, wetter than crying,

a liquid, a sweat, an oil without a name,

a sharp movement,

becoming, thickening,

the water falls,

in slow drops,

towards its sea, towards its dry ocean,

towards its waterless wave.

I see the long summer, and a rattle coming out of a barn,

cellars, cicadas,

populations, stimuli,

rooms, girls

sleeping with hands on heart

dreaming of bandits, of fires,

I see boats

I see marrow trees

bristling like mad cats,

I see blood, daggers and women's stockings,

and man's hair,

I see beds, I see corridors where a virgin screams,

I see blankets and organs and hotels.

I see the stealthy dreams,

I admit the last days,

and also the origins, and also the memories,

like an eyelid excruciatingly lifted by force

I am looking.

And then there is this sound:

a red noise of bones,

a meat sticking,

and yellow legs like spikes coming together.

I listen between the shot of the kisses,

I listen, shaken between breaths and sobs.

I'm looking, listening,

with half of the soul in the sea and half of the soul on the land,

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 deaf water fall

in deaf drops

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.