(In Orihuela, his town and mine, Ramón Sijé, whom I loved dearly, has died as though as struck by lightning)
I want to be the weeping gardener
of the land you occupy and fertilize,
oh my soulmate, so soon.
Feeding rains, snails
and organs, my aimless pain,
to the downtrodden poppies
I´ll give your heart as nourishment.
So much pain converges on my sides
that even my breath is fraught with it.
A harsh slap, an icy blow,
an invisible, killing axe cut
a brutal shove has felled you.
There´s no expanse greater than my wound,
I cry my misfortune and its ramifications,
and I feel your death more acutely than my life.
I walk over the remnants of the dead,
without anyone´s warmth, without relief
I go from my heart to my earthly concerns.
Soon did Death take flight,
soon did the dawn got up early,
soon you rolled on the ground.
I won´t forgive the lovestruck Death,
I won´t forgive the uncaring life,
I won´t forgive the earth, nor the nothingness.
On my hands I raise a storm
of stones, lightning and strident axes,
thirsting for catastrophes, and hungry.
I want to dig into the earth with my teeth,
I want to part the ground, side to side
with curt, hot bites.
I want to dig in the earth until I find you,
and kiss your noble skull
and get you out of the burial robes and return you.
You´ll come back to my orchard and my fig tree:
through the flower´s high scaffoldings
your soul linger playfully, like a bee
making heavenly waxes and labors.
You will return to the lull of the fences
of the loving peasants.
You´ll lighten the shadow of my brows,
and your blood will part, side to side,
conflicted between your girlfriend and the bees.
Your heart, now faded velvet,
is called to a field of foaming almond flowers
by my greedy lover´s voice.
To the winged souls of the roses
of almond trees I am calling you:
for there are many things we need to talk about,
oh my soulmate, my companion.