Long New York (bilinwe y sin tildes)

Long New York

"El campo se muerde la cola para unir las raices en un punto
y el ovillo busca por la grama su ansia de longitud insatisfecha.
(...)
Todo esta roto por la noche,
abierta de piernas sobre las terrazas"
Federico Garcia Lorca

No se que tendras aurora de nuevayork, no se que tendras
tu, el dia nublado, la escalera de incedios,
tu contagiosa risa nocturna,
el tio de la radial que parece que me persigue
para que tenga que despertar y escribirte, los dedos de tus pies,
la infinita longitud de tus extremidades, leer -sin querer,
sin poder evitarlo- a Lorca en Nueva York.
Sonyar con persianas. Mirar el movil
cada diez segundos. Darte cuenta de que no importan los kilometros,
los oceanos que cruces.
si las entranyas quieren, todo seguira exactamente igual que antes

con un poco mas de polvo en las estanterias.




Long New York

"The field bites his own tail to unit the roots in a point
and the ball of yarn searchs by the lawn his eagerly of unsatisfied length.
(...)
All is broken at night,
with open legs above the terraces."
Federico Garcia Lorca

I don't know what you have got, daybreak of newyork, I don't know what you have
got, the cloudy day, the fire escape stairs,
your infectuous and nocturnal laugh.
the guy with the jackhammer that looks like he is chasing me
only to wake me up and write to you, your toes,
the infinite lentgh of your extreminities, to read - I didn't want to
but I couldn't avoid it- Lorca in New York.
To dream about rollerblinds. To look at the cell phone
every ten seconds. Just to realized that it doesn't matter the kilometres,
the oceans you cross.
If the entrails want to, everything will be exactly as before

with a litte more dust on the shelves.




(disculpen los errores, google translator was my only friend...)