sábado, 19 de marzo de 2011

Chillería


Solitude is not often desired,
but I call her my mistress;
at my Broca's brain she's wired.
Her nature is both,
muse and fortress.

She promenades the halls,
made out of her own essence,
and the echoes of her footsteps,
a loud sign of her presence,
bounce against bricked layered walls.

-

She approaches my chambers,
going up a deoxyribonucleic
staircase, that is a continuation
of a previously sequenced,
never-ending set of steps.

Can't wait for the caress of
her lips against the contours
of my outer ear.

Can't wait
for the apocryphal sounds,
the whiplash of a dark
and beastly tongue,
that can make you feel like
a god and a child.


Imagen:
Tomada de: Le Mépris (Godard, 1963)
por: Miguel Adrover Lausell