Toca su fondo y se remueve
Una ola de luz densa, su fuego intacto.
Una corriente, un viento suave
que todo incita, que todo abrasa ye desata,
que todo acendra
a sus líneas íntimas. Un pleamar la cascada
que abisma el sol (su constelado
desprenderse, su gozoso,
sostenido
caer, su ígnea raigambre
de cristales: abriendo surcos, abriendo estelas,
vadeando, hundiéndose). La hondura se abre
en la superficie.
-Todo
el océano y la calma
en que se acuna, todo ese ardiente espesor de arena,
de barbecho, de sal, toca su fondo
y se remueve.
touches its depths and is stirred up
A wave of solid light, its fire intact.
A current, a soft breeze
that arouses everything, that scorches and unravels everything,
that refines everything
back to its pure lines. A high tide waterfall
that the sun throws down (its stars
breaking free, its joyfulness,
sustained
falling, its rootballs
of crystals, formed by fire: opening furrows, opening wakes,
wading across, sinking down). Depth opens
on the surface.
-All
the ocean and the calm
of soothing itself, all that burning thickness of sand,
of plough-turned land, of salt, touches its depths
and is stirred up.
Coral Bracho
Translation by Katherine Pierpoint
"There is also in each of us the maverick, the darling stubborn one who won't listen, who insists, who chooses preference or the spirited guess over yardsticks or even history. I suspect this maverick is somewhat what the soul is, or at least that the soul lives close by." - Mary Oliver
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