Amor en el Manicomio
Una extraña que anda mal
de la
cabeza ha venido a compartir mi cuarto en esta casa
una muchacha loca
como los pájaros
traba la puerta de la noche con su brazo y pluma.
Ceñida a su laberíntica cama
engaña a la casa
a prueba de cielo ingresando nubes
engaña a la habitación de pesadilla
numerosa como los muertos, caminando
o montando los océanos imaginarios del pabellón de los hombres.
o montando los océanos imaginarios del pabellón de los hombres.
Ella ha llegado
poseída,
acepta la luz ilusoria
a través de la pared mullida,
poseída por los
cielos
duerme en la
depresión angosta y camina el polvo
alucina a su antojo
en las mesas del manicomio adelgazadas
por mis lágrimas.
Y tomado por la luz de sus brazos
por fin, puedo, Dios, al fin,
soportar la primera visión que incendió las estrellas.
Dylan Thomas
Versión: Marina Kohon
Love In the Asylum
A stranger has come
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds
Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds
Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.
She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies
She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
To share my room in the house not right in the head,
A girl mad as birds
Bolting the night of the door with her arm her plume.
Strait in the mazed bed
She deludes the heaven-proof house with entering clouds
Yet she deludes with walking the nightmarish room,
At large as the dead,
Or rides the imagined oceans of the male wards.
She has come possessed
Who admits the delusive light through the bouncing wall,
Possessed by the skies
She sleeps in the narrow trough yet she walks the dust
Yet raves at her will
On the madhouse boards worn thin by my walking tears.
And taken by light in her arms at long and dear last
I may without fail
Suffer the first vision that set fire to the stars.
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