Balada de Los Amantes Del Camino de Taverney

(To Alejandra Lastra.)

The room where my nightingale lives
It is nourished by the noise of my delay,
the street songs are folding
and the morbid clock looks blaspheming.
Then the rain raises their kites
and wet some star that is dying between violins
and crowds his disheveled lashes
to the haunch of my colt, which has not stepped.

At night everything is clear if in your curtain
a hip that can be guessed undulates,
the race lover shakes his handkerchief
and turn on the signs where it passes
my atavistic sleeplessness looking for a home.

The bed where my good girl waits
It is warm like a womb and it is luminous,*
coming from the rain and forcing doors
I appreciate that your desire is already awake.
The bed where I drain my tributes
It is where we banish the barrier of suits,
It is where, in some way, its sun shines**
It takes over my tongue, so sovereign.

There we breathe with dexterous luck,
there we take shelter (in case of death),
there I give him my death rattles
and there she devours me with a thousand loves
taking the fresh flowers from my blood.

The bed where its soft pulp nests
It is the one where my bird raises its neck
and the one where it stretches its clear way
loving me closely and biting everything.
His bed multiplies my size
which is the key with which I open its opulent deliciousness,
that it is fire with which I cast its cold outside
and I fuel his moan whenever I want.

Coming from so far away I am so deep,
so close inside and so deep,
so eager and complete, so squeezed,
so possessive and full, so applied
that when the new day appears, it lifts me up
bled

* In the cassette version "Patricio Manns in Chile": it is warm as the belly and it is luminous.
** In "Patricio Manns in Chile": and it is where, in some way, its resonance. In "America, my girlfriend" he says: and where, somehow, his sun shines. In his collaboration with Inti-Illimani on the DVD "Lugar commons en vivo" he says: and where, in some way, it resonates.