Personal project.
Illustrations made in Adobe Fresco
on an excerpt from Adrienne Rich's Love Poem Nº2.
Illustrations made in Adobe Fresco
on an excerpt from Adrienne Rich's Love Poem Nº2.
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Twenty-One Love Poems [Poem II]
Adrienne Rich
I wake up in your bed. I know I have been dreaming.
Much earlier, the alarm broke us from each other,
you’ve been at your desk for hours. I know what I dreamed:
our friend the poet comes into my room
where I’ve been writing for days,
drafts, carbons, poems are scattered everywhere,
and I want to show her one poem
which is the poem of my life. But I hesitate,
and wake. You’ve kissed my hair
to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,
I say, a poem I wanted to show someone . . .
and I laugh and fall dreaming again
of the desire to show you to everyone I love,
to move openly together
in the pull of gravity, which is not simple,
which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air.
Much earlier, the alarm broke us from each other,
you’ve been at your desk for hours. I know what I dreamed:
our friend the poet comes into my room
where I’ve been writing for days,
drafts, carbons, poems are scattered everywhere,
and I want to show her one poem
which is the poem of my life. But I hesitate,
and wake. You’ve kissed my hair
to wake me. I dreamed you were a poem,
I say, a poem I wanted to show someone . . .
and I laugh and fall dreaming again
of the desire to show you to everyone I love,
to move openly together
in the pull of gravity, which is not simple,
which carries the feathered grass a long way down the upbreathing air.
Proyecto personal.
Ilustraciones hechas en Adobe Fresco
Extracto del Poema de Amor Nº2 de Adrienne Rich.
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21 Poemas de Amor [Poema II]
Adrienne Rich
Mucho antes nos separó la alarma, y estás
desde hace horas en tu escritorio. Sé lo que soñé:
nuestra amiga, la poeta, entra en mi cuarto
donde llevo días escribiendo, hay borradores,
carbónicos y poemas desparramados por todas partes,
y quiero mostrarle un poema
que es el poema de mi vida. Pero dudo,
y me despierto. Me besaste el pelo
para despertarme. Soñé que eras un poema,
te digo, un poema que le quería mostrar a alguien…
me río y vuelvo a soñar otra vez
con el deseo de mostrarte a todos los que amo,
de andar juntas sin reservas
con el impulso de la gravedad, que no es simple,
que arrastra un largo trecho al plumerillo en el aire exhalado.
