Distant sea, do you know your mystery?...
Upon your beach, the small
dream of a man
does not allow itself to be forgotten,
as in the soul the thought
–petal, sun, and pearl–,
on the shoulder of time.
my body lies upon your sand,
upon the shadow of its body,
and it dreams, dreams, dreams asleep in you,
that when I am awake it lives without you,
with my brow in the water and eyes thirsting,
living sea, my blood, your memory.
A tincture of melancholy: A page from my translation, Enclosed Garden, Emilio Prados, Lavender Ink, 2013 Donald Wellman