UNA TARDE
Mientras escribe, sin mirar el mar,
siente entre los dedos el temblor de su lapicera.
La marea se retira arrastrando
pequeñas piedras, restos de vida marina.
Pero no es esto, no.
Su corazón se acelera porque en ese momento ella ha decidido entrar completamente desnuda en la habitación.
Somnolienta, por un momento ni siquiera sabe dónde está. Ella sacude el pelo de su frente.
Se sienta en el inodoro con los ojos cerrados, la cabeza inclinada. Piernas extendidas.
Él puede verla a través de la puerta.
Quizás ella está recordando lo que sucedió esa mañana.
Porque después de un rato, abre un ojo y lo mira.
Y sonríe dulcemente.
Versión Irene Schiffer
*
AN AFTERNOON As he writes, without looking at the sea, he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.
AN AFTERNOON
As he writes, without looking at the sea,
he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.
The tide is going out across the shingle.
But it isn't that. No, it's because at that moment she chooses to walk into the room without any clothes on.
Drowsy, not even sure where she is
for a moment. She waves the hair from her forehead.
Sits on the toilet with her eyes closed,
head down. Legs sprawled. He sees her
through the doorway. Maybe
she's remembering what happened that morning.
For after a time, she opens one eye and looks at him.
And sweetly smiles.
*
(Fuente: Irene Schiffer)
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