Enunciada mujer / Enunciated woman [ES /EN]

ENUNCIADA MUJER

En los ardores del día se levantan las espumas de tu mar
lo sabes y mueves el eje de las risas.
Temo que temblará la tierra bajo mis pies,
mientras andamos sobre la zanja donde han caído
las flores que ayer eran coronas de las fiestas.
Tú has detenido el reloj
sin que se quiebre el eje de la tierra.
Aprecio la circunstancia terrenal que funda:
me hace naufragar en el oleaje de tu ser.
Tu voz.
Todas las voces
vinieron a anunciar un temblor de pálpitos
un huracán de primaveras que se instaura.
Precipitas las manzanas de las Evas
y fecundas el día con corceles asomados,
iluminando el espectáculo del alba.

Inundas mis venas, de hombre traslúcido,
con la savia de tu policromía.
Cercas el vientre con una miel próxima,
como eximiéndome de las lanzas
que el día instaura.
Un aleteo contra el fusil de la noche se avecina,
lava la desidia, los malditos contratiempos.

Quedaremos —cercados— a expensas de tu faro
en la tormenta: tu mano de seda
que sabe de corazones duros.
Descenderemos desde la altura conmovida
a la noche con pechos al frente
y caderas al filo de la rosa, hasta la frontera
de nuestra desolación de sustantivo.

Sigo ávido de tu agua,
del duelo que sugieres contra el desnivel de los odios.
Debajo de tu párpado: miel de frutas, amargo combativo.
Por allí quiero escudriñar los derroteros,
acaso el sendero por donde
Dios dejó escondido el paraíso,
o —entre amargos presentimientos —
dejó el molde olvidado
con que te hizo ser y espíritu.

—PoetaFrankoo 🌿

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ENGLISH - ENGLISH - ENGLISH - ENGLISH - ENGLISH

Hello Hivers,

it’s a pleasure to be back on the blog. Today I want to share a poem that emerges from the tension between the earthly and the sacred, between the body and that which overflows it.

Enunciated Woman is an approach to that force which founds, disrupts, and recreates: woman as origin, as language, and as mystery.

There are no answers here, only a search: the moment in which the word attempts to name the ungraspable.

I share this poem with you.

ENUNCIATED WOMAN

In the ardors of the day, the foams of your sea rise,
you know it, and you move the axis of laughter.
I fear the earth will tremble beneath my feet,
as we walk along the trench where have fallen
the flowers that yesterday were crowns of festivity.
You have stopped the clock
without the axis of the earth breaking.
I cherish the earthly circumstance that founds:
it makes me shipwreck in the surge of your being.
Your voice.
All voices
came to announce a trembling of heartbeats,
a hurricane of springs that takes hold.
You precipitate the apples of the Eves
and fertilize the day with emerging steeds,
illuminating the spectacle of dawn.

You flood my veins—of a translucent man—
with the sap of your polychromy.
You encircle the womb with a near honey,
as if releasing me from the spears
that the day establishes.
A flutter against the rifle of the night approaches,
washing away indolence, the cursed setbacks.

We will remain—besieged—at the mercy of your beacon
in the storm: your silk hand
that knows of hardened hearts.
We will descend from the moved height
into the night, with chests forward
and hips at the edge of the rose, to the frontier
of our desolation of noun.

I remain thirsty for your water,
for the duel you suggest against the unevenness of hatred.
Beneath your eyelid: fruit-honey, combative bitterness.
There I want to search the routes,
perhaps the path through which
God left paradise hidden,
or—amid bitter forebodings—
left the forgotten mold
with which He made you being and spirit.

—PoetaFrankoo 🌿

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