When I think of you, a bubble of hummingbirds erupts in my breathing feathered galaxy of iridescence and smile. All of you is Babel and any language, living or dead, speaks of your eyes and of that dragonfly’s intensity: fervid gaze on the crescent moon chalice. You are volatile, and I do not question your mastery to walk over the water. It is you who sprinkles magic on the wings of angels, to fly and return to the heights of infinite heavens. You nourish me with magic and due to you I am generous.
Your skin is daintier than the breath of a prayer and your grace, marvel dragon of incendiary heart. When you walk, the stones stand up and surrender to the dust coming out of your steps. And if I were to talk about your tenderness, I assume the risk of spilling myself in sighs and get vanished; but I can say that you sense and feel the marrow of each word and it thrills your soul, that from within you a clarity emerges that bristles every hair of your body and your eyes get deified as two mandalas in which Shiva and Agni officiate ceremonies and it is like this that rites bloom lucidly.
And your lips: molten mineral reddened in the crucible of a thousand-year-old prophecy, that’s when the earth trembles its poems, and it’s nothing other than the passage hummingbirds open in the day, to shiver for you all night.
You are mysterious, almost unnamable, for your name is pronounced with a clean heart, for when you are named, splendid flowers will invariably emerge loaded with dreams.
A girl of thousand eternities you are, and you know how to render the sun and the moon at your feet, not to play, but to care for them. You are my temple, my east and west, my north and south, my zenith and nadir. And all the Babel’s languages, living and dead Babel’s languages, are not enough to express everything that happens, when I think of you.
Translation from Spanish. Luz María López (Puerto Rico)