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Text: Love Letters from her Diary
Mi Diego: Espejo de la noche. Tus ojos espadas verdes dentro de mi carne, ondas entre nuestras manos. Todo tú en el espacio lleno de sonidos – En la sombra y en la luz. Tú te llamarás Auxocromo el que capta el color. Yo Cromo-foro – La que da el color. Tú eres todas las combinaciones de números. La vida. Mi deseo es entender la línea la forma el movimiento. Tú llenas y yo recibo. Tu palabra recorre todo el espacio y llega a mis células que son mis astros y va a las tuyas que son mi luz. auxocromo = cromo-foro Era sed de muchos años retenida en nuestro cuerpo. Palabras encadenadas que no pudimos decir sino en los labios del sueño. Todo lo rodeaba el milagro vegetal del paisaje de tu cuerpo. Sobre tu forma, a mi tacto respondieron las pestañas de las ores. Todas las frutas había en el jugo de tus labios, la sangre de la granada, el tramonto del mamey y la piña acrisolada. Te oprimí contra mi pecho y el prodigio de tu forma penetró en toda mi sangre por la yema de mis dedos. Olor a esencia de roble, a recuerdo de nogal, a verde aliento de fresno. Horizontes y paisajes que recorrícon el beso. Un olvido de palabras formará el idioma exacto para entender las miradas de nuestros ojos cerrados.
English Translation:
My Diego: Mirror of the night. Your eyes green swords inside my flesh. waves between our hands. All of you in a space full of sounds— in the shade and in the light. You were called AUXOCHROME the one who captures color. I CHROMOPHORE — the one who gives color. You are all the combinations of numbers. life. My wish is to understand lines form shades movement. You fulll and I receive. Your word travels the entirety of space and reaches my cells which are my stars then goes to yours which are my light. Auxochrome — Chromophore It was the thirst of many years restrained in our body. Chained words which we could not say except on the lips of dreams. Everything was surrounded by the green miracle of the landscape of your body. Upon your form, the lashes of the owers responded to my touch, the murmur of streams. There was all manner of fruits in the juice of your lips, the blood of the pomegranate, the horizon of the mammee and the puried pineapple. I pressed you against my breast and the prodigy of your form penetrated all my blood through the tips of my fingers. Smell of oak essence, memories of walnut, green breath of ash tree. Horizon and landscapes = I traced them with a kiss. Oblivion of words will form the exact language for understanding the glances of our closed eyes. = You are here, intangible and you are all the universe which I shape into the space of my room. Your absence springs trembling in the ticking of the clock, in the pulse of light; you breathe through the mirror. From you to my hands, I caress your entire body, and I am with you for a minute and I am with myself for a moment. And my blood is the miracle which runs in the vessels of the air from my heart to yours.