domingo, setembro 16, 2007

LITANY OF YOUNG SUICIDE WOMAN


To Efraín

Love is not only that, it’s not only to look into the eyes and hold hands and pronounce solemn words that after will be thrown away in the trash.
Someday, she promised to herself, she will stop precipitating like a featherless, blind bird towards the doom… someday.
But how to find that someday, to love is something more, loving must be reciprocal, and she tells you, who has never loved, who only conjugates that verb to conceal your one and only intention: to tattoo a shadow on the wall while the hormones are galloping through the blood.
And what could you tell her to console her of from what she called a weird promiscuity without intercourse, sometimes tinged of tenderness but always permeated of lust, of that damn one without wanting to be, of that having to stop saying who, how, why she loved…
And you heard her without listening, without replying: I understand you, but, just like you say: someday…
She wrote you an unsent letter, before tinging her gray sky with red...

Elena Méndez
FOTO/TRADUCCIÓN: Sandra Flores Alonso

2 comentários:

Omar disse...

UNO DE TUS MEJORES TEXTOS; CASI CASI POESÍA.

elena disse...

Gracias, Omar. De hecho es de los textos a los que tengo más fe.
El año pasado me ayudó a salvarle la vida a una amiga.

Un abrazo

Elena