Otro romance | Another romance

El texto es de los Diarios de José Martí:

Acurrucado: se quedó en esqueleto: se consumió sin morir: se le cayeron los ojos: le queda pelo en las cejas, y un tufo sobre la frente en el cráneo mondado: se le conoce que vive en que tiembla: a retazos caído el vestido: lacras de huesos por entre el vestido podrido: omóplato desnudo. Vivo que no pudo amar. ¿Por qué está así? Le quieren arrancar a la fuerza su secreto. Se defiende con los huesos, se aprieta con las manos el lugar del corazón. De entre los huesos empolvados sale el amor, con un cuchillo de plata fina, un cuchillo diminuto, cabeza de mujer, hoja de lengua, que lo atraviesa de parte a parte, y cuando le arrancan el dolor, rueda por tierra, muerto.

 

 

The text is from the Diaries of José Martí (and the translation by Craig Epplin):

Curled up: wearing nothing but a skeleton: consumed without dying: his eyes fallen out: hair still on his eyebrows, and a smell on the forehead of his pruned skull: it’s known of him that he lives as he trembles: in fallen remnants his clothes: seals of bones among the rotten clothing: naked shoulder blade. Live one unable to love. Why is he like this? They want to tear the secret from him by force. He defends himself with his bones, he presses his hands in the place of his heart. From among the dusty bones emerges love, with a knife of fine silver, a diminutive knife, head of a woman, blade of tongue, that crosses him from part to part, and when they tear pain from him, he rolls over the earth, dead.

 

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