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| (Montañita, Santa Elena 2019) |
que muerde de tus labios el deseo,
que nubla mi razón y lo que veo,
y roba los colores de la rosa...
Tu boca que se acerca temblorosa,
que me hace renegar de lo que creo,
que forja un religioso del ateo,
que canta, bebe y besa deliciosa...
Tu boca que aparece cuando quiere
con esa indiferencia que me hiere;
tu boca: más que un beso me provoca...
Y como todo se lo toma a juego,
al verse acorralada por mi fuego
se escapa, sin dudar, de mí: tu boca.
Your mouth that moves with dangerous grace,
that bites desire from your lips,

that clouds my reason and what I see,
and steals the colors from the rose…
Your mouth that draws near, trembling,
that makes me renounce what I believe,
that fashions a believer from an atheist,
that sings, that drinks, that kisses deliciously…
Your mouth that appears whenever it pleases,
with that indifference that wounds me;
your mouth: more than a kiss, it provokes me…
And since it takes all things as play,
when cornered at last by my fire,
it flees, without hesitation, from me: your mouth.

