THE BALLAD OF THE JEALOUS MAN

If the hoopoe commands a flock of flights
The jealous man frowns and extends his delirium,
If his love swims in the stillness of the alabaster
The jealous man turns his bony wheel

What will carry me away — he asks himself —
Perhaps the sparkling of the young Caucasian
Which inhabits me between short breaths . . .

The mastiff that barks in the quarry of being
What else does it announce but the lover’s cut-off head?

He who squeezes his nocturne
And drains his glance on the rampart of the day
He has truly no fervor nor dreams nor rest
Ten young men swim naked
In the dark pond of his eyes
Since the jealous man amuses himself sucking his blood
While phantoms copulate
In the dark lava of his fate

Balada del Celoso

Balada del Celoso

Si una manada de vuelos comanda la abubilla
El celoso frunce el cejo y estira su delirio;
Si su amor nada en la quietud del alabastro
El celoso gira su rueda de hueso;

Qué me perderá . . . se pregunta
Acaso el centelleo del joven caucásico
Que me habita entre resuellos . . .

El mastín que ladra en la cantera del ser
qué cosa anuncia sino la cabeza cercenada del amante?

El que estruja su nocturno
Y escurre la mirada sobre el valladar del día
No tiene a fe del celo ni sueño ni descanso
Diez jóvenes nadan desnudos
En la oscuras lagunas de sus ojos
Pues el celoso se entretiene en chupar su propia sangre
Mientras copulan los fantasmas
Entre la lava oscura de su suerte