Tu Barro

YOUR MUD (1929)

Evaristo Ribera Chevremont
 
 
     Your mud is like the mud of the flowers.
I have touched your mud,
and forever I have perfumed
the fingers of the hand.
Your mud is like the mud of birds.
I have touched your mud,
and wing and music have
the fingers of my hand.
Your mud is like the mud of the stars.
I have touched your mud,
and light and loftiness have
the fingers of my hand.
Your mud is not the mud
of others, it is ethereal mud,
it is mud that inhales, flies and shines:
it is flower, it is wing, it is aura!
As nobody understands
nor knows the secret of your mud,
nobody enjoys your delight, nobody,
though you can touch it!
How do I know the grace
radiant from your mud:
that hair of gold that covers you
the thighs and arms!
From your mud of light, wing and aroma
you will eat my mud.
When my mud enters yours,
shivering with pleasure,
thousands of plants are born,
thousands of stars are born,
thousands of auras are born,
thousands of birds are born.
Blessed be your mud,
blessed be your mud is a glass
of sun, moon and stars;
a celestial vessel, fragrant and pure
with an enchanted ruby;
a celestial vessel, fragrant and pure
Blessed be your mud
forever, foam and flame!
Blessed be your mud
unveiled and dazzling
from your sculpture to my sculpture!
Blessed be your mud
your mud in love with my mud;
your mud mine, mine;
your mud in me, like a miracle!