.
The waist is not a rose.
Not a bird. Not feathers.
The waist is the rain, Fragility, a moan
Giving itself to you. Use
your mortal arm to hug
fresh water, a love complaint.
Embrace, embrace it!
The entire rain looks like
a single reed. How it wavers
if there is a wind, if your mortal arm
is there, yes, today, you who love it!
—Vicente Aleixandre
translated from the Spanish by
Willis Barnstone and David Garrison
.
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