I knew that I was after and sleep entrebruma poetry, and yet not know how to call to attract you to me. Everything, all the past and life experiences mingled with the dreams, like a broken mirror in which the world looked shattered. What this terrible and terrifying sensation of moving through an endless desert, to find ourselves face to face, and before an invisible mirror. As if the term "monstrous thing also part of the human" some time to read a poet come true.
I knew that I was after entrebruma sleep and poetry, eyelids half closed, and yet not know how to call you, and draw you to me. I knew I loved you after that entrebruma sleep and poetry, and yet not know how to tell you, and express the immensity of that love. I knew so much, yet not know, for being all on the border between sleep and wakefulness, after half-closed eyelids, where everything is understandable, but nothing is expressible in everyday language.
I knew that I was after entrebruma sleep and poetry, but also did not know, or want to know. Was that perhaps this knowledge was part of the eternal memory, always stored in our cells, which sailed thousands and millions amorphous humus and larvae and strange creations unrelated to us?
Isabel Sabogal
0 comments:
Post a Comment