La Luna

Esta noche se me escapó la Luna,
Llamó a mi puerta
a las tres de la madrugada
y yo no le abrí
porque esas no son horas
de llamar a las ventanas
corrí las cortinas
Estaba cansada,
no tenía ganas de nada.
Y le dije:
Mira Luna,
cada vez que vienes
se me escapa el alma.
Ahora, a las 5:00
he vuelto a abrir la ventana,
pero la luna ya estaba lejos,
allá arriba,
enfadada
(creo que en la cara oculta
guardaba mi alma).
Mañana la ataré
a los pies de la cama
II
Esta noche se me escapó la luna
la tenía atada
a los pies de la cama
III
The MoonThe Moon can be a balloon
(La luna puede ser un globo)
¿Os imagináis tener la luna atada
a los pies de la cama?
Con un cordel
Y todas las noches
salir a navegar
(sin salir de la cama,
y en pijama)
por la noche estrellada
IVCreo que en la cara ocultala luna se guardaun as en la manga

Clearing

Today I have been cleaning my glass-ceramic stove. I have been cleaning the rings of my vitro. The vitro is made up of foufr rings. They were covered. By rests of burnt oil and burnt soot. As the four rings slowly emerged, I have imagined and felt the wonder an archaeologist must feel as he or she uncovers a small remainder of civilization which has been buried in the sand. As he slowly clears and wipes the rests hiding the remains of what was there before. It is the same wonder that a restaurer must feel as he uncovers the painting that was. As he slowly discovers one brush stroke and another, one colour, as the colours becames clear and bright. Or the same wonder a psychologist must feel as he clears the coverings of an old personality buried, left there, like a forsaken garden, for the many years in which wastage and wild plants have blurred the outlines of what was a carefully built structure.