When you get angry with me and your anger reaches the branches of nearby trees also
bananas, gnarled and naked, that mark a trail
Cochin back,
seas with waves and curls and scrolls Ionic
when all this happens and I hate to profess hate the cyclops Polyphemus Odysseus,
I can not!
When you look me without seeing me,
because your gaze is lost in your thoughts
and glimpse the emptiness of my loneliness in them,
and I speak and not listen to me and I pray
and answer me with silence when all that happens
and I hate you profess to hate the Argonaut Jason Medea,
I can not!
roots have atrophied my hatred on the ground
and it only germinates in love so abysmal, that filaments
splits as
and tangled jungle vines tangled love in your heart.
Dalianegra Mayte.
Painting: "Medea", 1868, Frederick Sandys.
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