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The road blocked by the forest
(English translation of 'El camino cegado por el bosque' by Antonio Colinas)
Believe me, it is not pity I feel for you,
now that I'm away, but a hurt memory.
For you and for the road blocked by the forest
that I could not follow that young night
that was perfumed and open like the body of a pine tree.
It is not pity, but a sense of failure,
a soft and intimate pain that never ceases.
You were good to me in my days then:
as I gave myself this sweet poison
that drives me to fight against the sea, against time
and against the love of those who love me well.
It is not pity, I still look for you in the perfect night,
eager, hungry for your acid colors,
your cool stars, your branches and rivers
icy after the most beautiful skies of winter.
I tell you, hurting and with moist eyes,
but with a mind that is secure, serene:
I could not get closer to you because my lips
reached out to rub your snow, your horizon.
It is not pity, believe me; I only know that one late
deep evening, I descended from that mountain
pure and purified as a fire in June.
I thought to go back definitely to you
and I found the road blocked by the forest.
For more translations of poems by Antonio Colinas, go to Translations.
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