At the Blue Note
Se interrumpió el silencio between the night and God
y se engastó la transparencia en el anillo negro de la música.
Cincuenta fingers made heaven unwitherable on earth
by means of touch, of skill, of a fictitious loneliness
para crear a tiny fragment of presencia.
In a man’s mind there is no room
para una mariposa de belleza
made out of water, of dulzura
because tan sólo comprendemos
what can be seized or grasped,
what is within alcance,
but every man deserves at least
imaginar el mundo
as if el tiempo no existiera,
as if the stuff of life had been inserted
en la mirada del que escucha
the endless labyrinths of music.
Le pregunté a mis manos por la poesía
that was supposed to be creada
in this lugar of darkness
but no obtuve respuesta.
Mi hands sencillamente wrote
lo que sentían, what could be written
without paying attention a mi cabeza,
como si describiera
un ciego el rostro de su amada,
as if my still state of conciousness
could be transferred a tientas
into the reader’s mind.
