Jerez
For Guillermo Sheridan
Perhaps his hand was not so cold
at the moment of death,
as this one in bronze
with its precise veins,
fine fingers,
young hand I lightly touch
while the music spills over the walls
and his heart beats unbroken.
His shadow pierces me with its light.
Everything speaks of him without saying anything
when I walk across the paving stones
when I see the kiln in the small patio.
His heart beats in my temples,
in the invisible hand that touches me,
in the tears that let loose and still me
with a lingering plaint.
from the sequence “The Embrace/El abrazo” (Nadir, 2010)
Jerez
Para Guillermo Sheridan
No era quizá tan fría su mano
en el momento de morir,
como ésta de bronce
con sus venas exactas,
sus dedos finos,
mano joven que rozo apenas
mientras la música se derrama por las paredes
y late su corazón intacto.
Me traspasa su sombra con su luz.
Todo habla de él sin decir nada
al caminar por las baldosas,
al ver el horno en el pequeño patio.
Su corazón late en mis sienes,
en la mano invisible que me toca,
en el llanto que desata y me enmudece
con su larga querella.
