a source of water

Yesterday was my last full day of vacation, and it ended up being very busy—very fun, but also busy—and by the end I was so tired that I went straight to bed. We're going out to breakfast in a little bit, and then I head back to the airport. So here is one last love sonnet in Spanish, for the road.

para este amor nunca ha habido sol,
como loca flor, en lo oscuro brota,
es, a la vez, corona de espinas y
guirnalda de primavera en la sien

fuego, herida y amarguísimo fruto,
pero también brisa y manantial,
una mordida al alma: tu aliento,
un tronco en la corriente: tu pecho

hazme caminar sobre el agua turbia,
sé el hacha que rompa este candado,
el rocío que haga llorar los árboles

si mudo quedo al besar tus muslos
es que mi corazón con afán busca
entre tu carne un nuevo amanecer


there has never been sunlight for this love,
like a crazed flower it buds in the dark,
is at once a crown of thorns and
a spring garland around the temples

a fire, a wound, the bitterest of fruit,
but a breeze as well, a source of water,
your breath—a bite to the soul,
your chest—a tree trunk in the current

make me walk on the turbid waters,
be the ax that breaks this lock,
the dew that weeps from trees

if I become mute kissing your thighs,
it’s that my heart eagerly
searches your flesh for a new dawn

—Francisco X. Alarcón (1954-2016), I from "Of Dark Love," from From the Other Side of Night/Del otro lado de la noche, translated by Francisco Aragón, 2002. Not only is this gorgeous, it is also very queer.