Your Mouth


Delmira Agustini

I was at my divine labor, upon the rock

Swelling with Pride. From a distance,

At dawn, some bright petal came to me,

Some kiss in the night. Upon the rock,

Tenacious a madwoman, I clung to my work.

When your voice, like a sacred bell,

A celestial note with a human tremor,

Stretched its golden lasso from the edge of your mouth;

—Marvelous nest of vertigo, your mouth!

Two rose petals fastened to an abyss...—

Labor, labor of glory, painful and frivolous;

Fabric where my spirit went weaving herself!

You come to the arrogant head of the rock,

And I fall, without end, into the bloody abyss!

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