Dolora

After nine moons
the memory of you returns to me
your image comes to visit me.

Anyone who had met you
knew about the beauty of your eyes
memorable as lapis lazuli
livelier than the evening stars.

They knew too about your dark hands
like the moons of memory
dark for a love ring made of silver
to stand out.

They knew about your lips
that made kisses memorable like no others
shaped to say words that a dead man
he who writes this
carries on his journey.

Today, after many moons
my soul returns to you
fleeting gazelle on a plain of oblivion
where you live always.

A poor soul, mine
that can only see through your eyes
the places you showed him.

Traslated from Spanish by Rowena Hill