Andrew Wyeth

Eugenio Montejo

In the depths of a woman's body

a house is constructed

amidst murmurs and pauses.

There are shadows of stones to collect,

fragile scaffolds, in this act

of imitating the sparrow.

Above all when she sleeps,

smiling in dreaming—

to survey her completely

don't wake her up;

trace the slope of her hips,

the sweep of her hands.

Along the dunes containing her dream,

those turbulent settings,

high walls are raised

to keep out the rain, and the wind,

year after year.

A gesture sometimes informs a wall;

from a whisper a window is born;

and after wandering we dismount at the door

and tie up the horse.

In the depths of her body the house

awaits, the table fitted with plain

words for living, or for dying perhaps,

no one can say—

nobody who enters ever leaves.

Translated from the Spanish by Kirk Nesset

my thanks to Soubriquet for the poetic find!


J Cosmo Newbery said...

Should you need any help with the house cleaning...

goatman said...

"amidst murmurs and pauses"
as most things should be done ---

You always come up with such inspiring and beautiful pictures. He could have been inspired by these smooth undulations had he seen these.

Hope that you are well and doing fine.

red dirt girl said...

Hi Goatman!

Thank you for the kind comment. I am well and doing as best I can. I am now flying solo -drug free - with doctor's approval. Here's hoping I don't crash and burn.


goatman said...

Happy to hear that. Wish I could say the same, but moderation (in my case) is good. Only on two meds and those are for the bad back.