Yes, Eduardo, I understand,
the woman between my eyelids has robbed me of sleep.
This woman, Eduardo,
let me tell you,
is clothed in the finest garments,
she puts to shame the moon,
her glances, Eduardo,
are more serene than moonlight,
her tears clearer than dew.
Eduardo, you must understand,
I don't want to sleep again.
I want to undress this woman
who undresses me with so much ease
I confess:
there are times she reveals
and times when the mad logic of love
unclothes.
At times like that, Eduardo,
I have seen her naked,
been dazzled by that corporeal light
seen that beauty-drenched body glow,
been robbed of words.
Then there have also been times,
not very many though,
when I've undressed that divine nakedness
moved beneath the garment called skin.
breathed the air of her lungs
and seen that very human piece of flesh
that is her heart,
palpitating like yours and mine,
She's fragile, Eduardo,
like tomorrow.
and flawed like the revolution,
scarred like the map of my country
and yours too, Eduardo.
I walk endlessly in the delirium of my insomnia,
I can't forget, for my eyes are a barred gate
that refuses amnesia.
She's stuck in my throat, Eduardo,
and it is not that I want to ask her to leave,
need I even say?
*"I can't sleep. There is a woman stuck between my eyelids. I would tell her to get out if I could. But there is a woman stuck in my throat." (From "The Book of Embraces," by Eduardo Galeano)
[From the collection 'Threads', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2007]
