There Is Something inside Love

There is something inside love that belongs

to this world. In the multiple

instances in which everything

makes sense since you arrived,

in all the material suddenly converted

to gift, the meadow we walk through,

the terrace overlooking or wall that protects,

also in the sweetness of days, 

in the humble routine of having you

beside me,

I notice it.

But something inside love isn’t of this world.

Something that isn’t abstract.

I try it, for example, in the warmth

of your skin, every time we fall asleep

together, and every morning

that I hope for nothing more than your first

kiss, when you recover

your place in my arms blindly.

Then we anticipate what one day we will have 

definitively.

In order to name it,

the notion of solstice seems necessary to me.

I won’t reason this over any more. It is a kind

of first fruit.

 Translated by Curtis Bauer
“There Is Something inside Love” was published in Eros Is More (Alice James Books, 2014).

You can read and listen the poem in the original Spanish here.