Blues
No mirarte es el blues
no beber la savia de la mas antigua religión,
la vida.
Bravo al blues que aviva la llama,
bravo a tu terrestre figura
que me atrae y me eleva,
al viento que te impulsa.
Para el viento, mi mantra,
para mí, tus labios que me guían,
tu boca que recorre la geografía de mi cuerpo.
No besarte es el blues,
el mar del sur en la distancia es el blues,
el viaje sin tu beso.
by Etnairis Ribera
Page 15
Blues
The blues is not seeing you;
Not drinking the sap of that ancient religion,
life.
Bravo to the blues that fuels the flame,
bravo to your earthly figure
that lures me and lifts me,
to the wind that drives you.
For the wind, my mantra,
for me, your lips that lead me,
your mouth that crosses the geography of my body.
Not kissing you is the blues,
the faraway sea of the south is the blues,
the journey without your kiss.