Here is to spending ten full days with my favourite person in the whole world in our own little universe. From my Dad’s book Under the shadow (Sombrabajo).
The events of this afternoon (Los acontecimientos de esta tarde)
In the discreet bedroom, behind the trees,
the window is the only threat to our intimacy.
The two of us (nobody but us) feel
the plenitude that invades us, because we are
the inhabitants of a twenty four square metre universe
and its zenith and nadir
complete the dimension of our world, now.
The soft light and the mirrors witness
our mutual surrender. You keep quiet. You rest.
Like discovering yourself you stare at the reproduction
of your image. You then realise that it was fair
that I searched insistently for the appropriate moment.
Everything that has happened, the events
that filled the afternoon, what ‘is’, which is now ‘was’
for the two of us,
must not make it to this poem. It is the secret
that joins us together, that united us for an instant,
the confusion of what is known and what is forgotten
without ever forgetting it completely.
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