She was beautiful in a way
that seemed indestructible,
that I could not greet her
differently than with an
unoccupied heart, stretching
page under her feet, carrying
much more than others forgot,
running after the wind that spoke
of her scent, bribing birds for her
presence and that of her torrid smile,
stepping over avalanching leaves,
that tried, even them to reach her lips,
reacting differently to every kiss
that seemed unatonable, stumbling
in my embrace, taking her shape
into my mind, rewriting her
like the shore, each footprint,
each memory, uncapped and poured
into her glass and mine, toasting
to her blooming green eyes
and taking me by the collar of
my tiny heart, making fun of me,
making sure I surender all my
belongings to her, to her
unretreating presence, words
that are after all, unable to
recognize her, through the anxiety
of the rain that stranded us yesterday.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem