Sobre la arena mojada,
lo mismo que un laberinto,
se cruzaban mis pisadas grandes y largas
con las suyas cortas y pequeñas,
dibujando un extraño sendero en la playa.
Su risa alteraba el silencio
y, cogida de mi mano,
buscaba un cómplice para chapotear
cada ola que llegaba a la orilla.
Su piel tersa marcaba
dos finos y redondos pechos de nácar.
El viento del mar alborotaba su cabello
y el sol encendido como una hoguera
doraba su piel blanca.
Su figura desnuda recordaba la más hermosa
de las sirenas de la mitología griega.
En un instante perdido,
me miró con sus inocentes ojos.
Yo, sonrojado como un niño,
bajé los míos hasta el infierno.
Seguimos cruzando nuestros pasos
cortos y largos, grandes y pequeños,
y siguió jugando la brisa con su piel blanca,
y fue entonces cuando supe
que jamás dejaría de amarla.
Upon the wet sand,
like a labybrinth,
my long, large footsteps crossed
with her short, small footsteps,
drawing a strange path in the sand.
Her laugh broke the silence
and holding my hand,
she searched for an accomplice to splash
each wave that hit the shore.
Her smooth skin marked
two fine rounded breasts of pearl.
The wind ruffled her hair
and the sun lit her up like a bonfire,
gilding her white skin.
her nude figure told of all the most beautiful
sirens of greek mythology.
In a lost instant,
she looked at me with her innocent eyes.
I blushed like a child,
my gaze fell to the floor and sunk to hell.
We continued crossing our steps
short and long, large and small.
The breeze continued to play with her white skin,
and it was then I knew
that I would never stop loving her.
Colección : Sin musa no hay poesia
BREASTS OF PEARL
Upon the wet sand,
like a labybrinth,
my long, large footsteps crossed
with her short, small footsteps,
drawing a strange path in the sand.
Her laugh broke the silence
and holding my hand,
she searched for an accomplice to splash
each wave that hit the shore.
Her smooth skin marked
two fine rounded breasts of pearl.
The wind ruffled her hair
and the sun lit her up like a bonfire,
gilding her white skin.
her nude figure told of all the most beautiful
sirens of greek mythology.
In a lost instant,
she looked at me with her innocent eyes.
I blushed like a child,
my gaze fell to the floor and sunk to hell.
We continued crossing our steps
short and long, large and small.
The breeze continued to play with her white skin,
and it was then I knew
that I would never stop loving her.
Collection: Without muse there is no poetry
Translation: Sarah Louise Bussey
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario