The Home of Light
(English translation of Morada de la Luz by Antonio Colinas from Desiertos de la luz ("Deserts of light").
The sullen sky is rolling upwards
and threatens over the black mountains.
Finally this house is my home
and even what is hardest in it (the wall
of such emphatic stone)
will sleep quietly inside my eyes.
In this house time is tender
and always hushed until it becomes the silence
that runs in my veins.
In my home there are no days or nights.
My home is my day and my night.
Each tiny room is a roof terrace.
I float in its solitude, drink in its shadow;
If I ascend to the attics of light
I descend to a knowledge that does not know.
The house, in stillness, is spinning
- a planetarium of love -
around a haven of bodies.
I go around, without going, to each place
and return to their pleasures without leaving them.
Everything I’ve looked for, here I find.
This home is a world outside the world.
Inside a music sounds that sweeps on towards no end,
a tide in which I come
and go (yet completely motionless!)
receiving answers without words
to questions that do not move my lips.
And I feel that you are here, even if you're not,
and I am in you, even if I'm not.
A center where I see at last, with such clarity!;
a center where, at last, not being you,
you, in your all fullness, come to save me.
At last my heart has returned
to listen to itself.
How sweet this closing down of everything
to open up and understand everything:
a beautiful nothing comes caressing
my skin to quieten me,
to quiten me even more, and calm me down!
Home of love, with its rings
of silence that hisses, yet cannot drown us,
because the blood of our people
can no longer harm us.
(The blood of our people is now only
a copper light burning slowly
round the tops of the cypresses).
A home in the tide of life,
a tide in the home of light!
For more translations of poems by Antonio Colinas, go to Translations.