La visita del mar / Javier Sologuren

The Sea’s Visit

I’m a body that flees, a shadow maturing
with a murmur of leaves in your glance
just like the cruel and splendorous midday:
sea, lost wing, snow eyelashes,
chaste sleepwalker amidst corrupted matter,
silk wave in which I flicker sadly.

All words are mine when I stand at the edge
of your eyes, sea, all silence is mine.

Strange host who disturbs me,
an instant I now inhabit slowly
blessed, melancholic, desert, penetrating.

I’m not within me, I’m not mine, wind are my eyes,
sea, now that they watch you, now that your face
lifts me extensively awake in the void,
myself a white horse, immaterial, naked.

Furtive stepping, sea; guide me to you
when the night is a palm leaf within
and my body is merely the blandest snow,
whimpering shadow, triumphant weight of gold.
I open a window in the heights of the night.
In my eyes the dream is an ice toy,
a precious arrow that won’t be able to reach me.

(Visible ear of the star, check me.)

Sea, uncertainty opens its veins from your chest,
the brief fire of single pearls singing,
mute, terrestrial ray burns me all the way to my hair.

The night air, your blind celestial fingers;
your deep satin, sea, burning peacefully.

(The beautiful light is already on it’s way dancing on feet.)

Pure, final beach, sea, where we’re nothing
a ghost amid flowers of dawn.

(Javier Sologuren | Peru, 1921-2004)

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