Una mujer envejecida
El
pasado se cae a pedazos
los
hechos se difuman
el
futuro es una vaina sin semillas
el
presente, dolor.
Ni siquiera
el dolor tiene esa precisión
con
que sacudía a la juventud.
Los años como las
polillas
erosionan los órganos
que cuelgan o caen
en un armario podrido.
¿Te atormenta el
espejo?
¿O lo imposible
es posible para la
senectud?
¿Cómo pudo el otrora
ágil y delgado yo-
esa silueta estrecha-
llegar a contener
este enorme desconocido-
este extraño bulboso-
solo para ser exorcizado
por muerte?
La dilatación ha
dominado por completo
tu larga realidad.
Julio
12, 1984
Mina
Loy, Londres, 1882- Aspen, Colorado, 1966
De Mina Loy, The Lost Lunar Baedeker,
Carcanet, Great Britain, 1997
Versión
©Silvia Camerotto
An
Aged Woman
The past has come apart
events are vagueing
the future is a seedless pod
the present pain.
Not even pain has that precision
with which it struck youth.
Years like moths
erode internal organs
hanging or falling
in a spoiled closet.
Does you mirror bedevil you?
Or is the impossible
possible to senility?
events are vagueing
the future is a seedless pod
the present pain.
Not even pain has that precision
with which it struck youth.
Years like moths
erode internal organs
hanging or falling
in a spoiled closet.
Does you mirror bedevil you?
Or is the impossible
possible to senility?
How could the erstwhile
agile and slim self--
that narrow silhouette--
come to contain
this huge incognito--
this bulbous stranger--
only to be exorcised by death?
Dilation has entirely dominated
your long reality.
agile and slim self--
that narrow silhouette--
come to contain
this huge incognito--
this bulbous stranger--
only to be exorcised by death?
Dilation has entirely dominated
your long reality.
July 12th, 1984