Tauro

If Chuck Norris were an astrological sign, he’d be…

TAURUS (1929)

Evaristo Ribera Chevremont
 
 
     Taurus, give me your strength;
your strength, made from the ages.
It is already spring
and I look at your image
in nature,
propagator of the vital prodigy,
in starry blue meadows
you graze rough and magnificent
and the vigorous beating of your hooves
provokes immense clamors.
Taurus, give me your strength;
your strength, made from the ages. 
 
     Taurus, proud Taurus;
Taurus, burning Taurus;
I grabbed your tail
to fly with you;
to drink your blood;
your blood, giving brilliance
and inspiration to bodies,
flame to spirits.
you imbue me with your barbaric energy,
your sacred instincts,
the astral fire that makes you eternal,
your grandeur, your pulse,
Taurus, give me your strength;
your strength, made from the ages.
 
     You preside the month in which reborn
the life of greater impetus. 
You inflame the woods.
You make the rivers run faster.
Your influence moves the worms
and the billy goats,
it dazzles the virgins, and streams
the erotic treasure, from the domain
of pubescent males,
in whose sex there is an explosion.
Taurus, give me your strength;
your strength, made from the ages.
 
     You violate the immensity and make her yours.
What tremors! What spasms! What grunting!
Your horns shimmer.
Your horns shimmer, and your snout
drools with milk
on worlds of marble and platinum.
From the intense ruddy millenniums
there forms a sharp torrent of contrasts,
improvisors to the full friction
of your feverish and exalted vigor.
The world turns in a vertigo of forests;
the water laughs in circles;
and you, Taurus, extend your charge,
while April, that month of sensual fluid,
drags through the resurrected zones
its tunic of stamens and pistils.
Taurus, give me your strength;
your strength, made from the ages.