
Women poets in the Land of the Clouds, 2008
Anthology is published by the Centro de Estudios de la Cultura Mixteca
MEXICO Emilio Compiler fire poems of 51 poets from around the world meeting participants XVI
MY POEMS IN THE ANTHOLOGY
ELENA BOOK
----
love I left for later
time is a treasure that is not mine
The house is a mouth absorbed.
is a sea, vast and tumultuous, suffocating me.
and I can not swim.
sink my hands into the soapy water and shine
sheets, white foam beneath dreams
and drawing water.
rub the bodice, petticoat, lace silk
outside numbs me
A lavender scent a perfume
I do not know
sea climbs through my hands to the face and blushes
down to the empty womb. The perfume is a snake
nesting, secret in my sleeping body. ------------
time is a treasure that is not mine
The house is a mouth absorbed.
is a sea, vast and tumultuous, suffocating me.
and I can not swim.
sink my hands into the soapy water and shine
sheets, white foam beneath dreams
and drawing water.
rub the bodice, petticoat, lace silk
outside numbs me
A lavender scent a perfume
I do not know
sea climbs through my hands to the face and blushes
down to the empty womb. The perfume is a snake
nesting, secret in my sleeping body. ------------
I give way and I believe God Baldovino Glauce
My hands are doves of flour when kneading.
fly on the table, draw a nest egg
get there, and the whiteness
cradles the sun and life as a gold coin.
Stretch the dough, I plunge my hands and I think she
God ..
A perfume to mount smoked in the afternoon. A whiff of bread
invades the house. Then
as a mild aroma, comforting me
oblivion. --------------
My hands are doves of flour when kneading.
fly on the table, draw a nest egg
get there, and the whiteness
cradles the sun and life as a gold coin.
Stretch the dough, I plunge my hands and I think she
God ..
A perfume to mount smoked in the afternoon. A whiff of bread
invades the house. Then
as a mild aroma, comforting me
oblivion. --------------
De La Caja de Madera
Now they have returned.
For all paths of the night have been
to mourn in my bed
Delmira Agustini
-
For all paths of the night have been
to mourn in my bed
Delmira Agustini
-
I said again become familiar names
things and all the world of oblivion, come back. Back
air traveler in the perfume
returns. Dark
forgotten corner. Rib
in leaf fall. Back
and spreads, aroma
between things
and says the exact figure of his day.
Who hopes?
The threshold
death with his eyes looking at me. Under the lamp
- do good hand-
My father and my mother - I write.
parents parents - write.
In light of the lamp
- do good hand-
Sola
with my ghost writing.
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