Playing to play at playing
a game for two,
child`s play,
restless adults.
Playing to play at playing
we were others-
those swordmen with cloak and mask,
mistery, gold and old lace.
It was only a game
to play of loving and encountering
each other-
a gamble without risks,
to see who would first
want to abandon the game.
We played inside the belly
of a yellow whale
to desire and be desired;
we played at being a tangled ball,
a ball of amethyst silk
rolling down the steps
of a staircase of incense and myrth.
We played at being others,
as we talked by the fire;
we knew we were the same ones,
those who wrote a story,
our story,
in those castles seduced
by the insistence of a tide.
Translated by Sue Littletown, Daniel Ginhson and the author.
From the book Golden Summer / Verano de Oro,2011.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem