Número cuatro--4.
"Your arms, your hands, número 4.
your hands are two hammers that joyfully nail down
on preemptive mourning.
Tender fists that have fallen from earth--
sweet bunches of small bananas.
Your hands smell of the blackberries
you harvest in the fields, that steal
your sweat at $2 a bucket.
They're hard, warm, yellow maíz, hoes that bring bread
to the table, dark stones that give light when struck,
places support anchor of the world.
I worship them as reliquaries.
Like nesting seagulls, they consult the light within me."
Número diez.
I'll read this one in Spanish.
And this.
2 caminos hay en el mundo.
El verse un día en un espejo o el nunca llegar a verse de
veras.
Verse es vivir.
No verse es estar muerto, me aleccionas.
Mírame, yo soy más que mi mirada,
más que una sonrisa en plena calle,
más que todos los horizontes juntos.
El que te mira es más que ese que miras.
Al verme en ti descubro lo que soy.
Así quiero que tú te veas en mí.
Que al mirarme te mires mirándote.
Mírame que me estoy mirando en ti.
Mírame que tú eres espejo mío.
Mírame que yo quiero ser el tuyo.
Can I get some water?
10.
"There are two ways in this world
to see yourself in the mirror, or never you see yourself,
your true self image.
To see yourself is to live.
Not seeing yourself is death.
You tell me, look at me.
I am more than my look.
More than a passing smile on the street.
More than pale horizons.
The one who looks at you is more than the one you look at.
Seeing myself in you, I discover who I am.
I want you to see yourself, likewise in me.
Looking at me, see yourself looking at you.
Look at me, for I see myself in you.
Look at me, for you are my mirror.
Look at me, I want to be yours."