WOMAN, OBSTINACY OF ASIA

You are a continent of the chest from the depths of races,
you wander like the moon,
pain is a tendril and your love mercury
woman, obstinacy of Asia.
When you cast a glance at the valleys ripening,
as the winds take it to the heights,
you exploit the branches and pour poison into the moon.
Solitary as a murder, you dwell in consciousness
conspiring against the divinities of birds,
you with your rivery black hair,
you again and again with your dark eyes.
I tell the sun to pause without kindness
ripping apart the great color of dream,
tell it to fight you with bubbling sulphur
and to demolish all of the memory that torments me.
Look times have brought me to your steps
the vegetable dinosaurs, the heavenly latitudes,
a loose sheaf of blood, ready for scattering,
when I cried out without reply: I want to become blue.
You came to stay until death,
purple reflections from you limbs,
I asked but never learned where you found the dark,
you lock up your sound in secret streams
you alone, with the explosive voice of silence.
You came to stay till the far-off dawn,
you passed by bodies and are still travelling.
I did not live and the beauty of Attica is my whole journey.
Singing amid so much yearning
I know nothing of the weapon of oblivion.

WOMAN, OBSTINACY OF ASIA