I
Left to myself I finally look up to the mirror. Tear runs through cheek.

II
Crying back to me my reflection listens as noone has before.

III
"Look deeper" she cries. Darkness dwells where nothing dwells.

IV
Past my glasses, past the glass of the mirror, past my glasses. My eyes' look at my eyes is the only thing I have left.

V
My body's body demands attention. Silent scream in the twilight of spring.

VI
A second tear runs across my ****** hair, and it knows itself a stranger.

VII
Stepping down my eyes I see my body. My body that is not my body. My body and nothing more.

VIII
My paper gets wet as a man's hand grips my pen and writes. A stranger's hand.

IX
Chest up and down, the man's body refuses my call for change.

X
And my body that is not my body moves along with my body's mirror.

XI
My manly jaw opens the silence up, and my mirror cries out. I dive in to help.

XII
I continue to step down into the night. There's nothing to look up to where I came from.

XIII
And the echoes of the well hear out my name, my real name. There is wind at the bottom of my heart.

XIV
As I dug deeper into my reflection's eyes, I reach a wooden floor. Nothing but stone saw me prior.

XV
When I look in the mirror, I am there.

XVI
A lonely little girl shivers back to me. I am alone yet I am the one that shivers.

XVII
When I step onto the wood it cracks. The girl looks at me and moves away from the light of my eyes.

XVIII
I follow. My soul cries. It is the girl that cries. It is I who cries. No surprise, I was the girl all along.

XIX
I caress the girl and take her upwards through my mirror's skin. Here she will suffer.

"Y es siempre el jardín de lilas del otro lado del río. Si el alma pregunta si queda lejos se le responderá: del otro lado del río, no éste sino aquel."
-Extracción de la piedra de la locura, de Alejandra Pizarnik.

Siempre cercano,
siempre lejano,
el jardín de lilas se vuelve inexistente
pues siempre está del otro lado.
Tal vez la muerte te lleve a tu otro lado,
a tus ansiadas lilas, Alejandra.

Yo sólo pido encontrar en mi orilla una mísera margarita.

//

"And is always the garden of lilies on the other side of the river. If the soul asks if it's far it will be answered: on the other side of the river, not this one but that one."
-Extracting the stone of madness, by Alejandra Pizarnik.

Always close,
always far,
the garden of lilies becomes non-existent
for it is always on the other side.
Perhabs death will take you to your other side,
tu your coveted lilies, Alejandra.

I only ask to find on my shore a miserable daisy.

"Manos crispadas me confinan al exilio.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda."

Cuervos negros me prohiben mi alegría.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.
Armas siniestras, seres aciagos.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.

Mi muerte se acerca, mi mano se acerca.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.
Mi pálida reflexión me prohibe la vida.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda.

"Me quieren anochecer, me van a morir.
Ayúdame a no pedir ayuda."
-"Figuras y silencios" de Alejandra Pizarnik

//

"Contorted hands confine me to exile.
Help me not to ask for help."

Black ravens forbid me my happiness.
Help me not to ask for help.
Sinister weapons, fateful beings.
Help me not to ask for help.

My death gets closer, my hand gets closer.
Help me not to ask for help.
Mi pale reflection forbids me my life.
Help me not to ask for help.

"They want to night me, they are going to die me.
Help me not to ask for help."
-Extracting the stone of madness, by Alejandra Pizarnik

"Toda la noche hago la noche. Toda la noche escribo. Palabra por palabra yo escribo la noche"
-Extracción de la piedra de la locura, de Alejandra Pizarnik

La luna riela en las olas de los gemidos de mi viento.

La noche se torna amarga en el nacer del día
pues su muerte llena al corazón solitario de alegría.

Alejandra y yo escribimos mejor por la noche,
para la noche,
en la noche.

Alejandra ya no está con nosotros pero su noche es eterna en mi dicha.

Podríamos haber sido amigas,
compartir alguna noche;
pero la muerte nos separa,
su muerte,
su noche.
Este es un canto a las almas perdidas en la noche.
En nuestra noche.
La noche mía y de Pizarnik y de tantos otros.
Espero verte
al
nacer
el día.

//

"All night I make the night. All night I write it. Word for word I write the night."
-Extracting the stone of madness, by Alejandra Pizarnik.

The moon shimmers on the waves of the moans of mi wind.

The night is turned bitter at the birth of day
for its death fills the lonely heart with joy.

Alejandra and I write better at night,
for the night,
in the night.

Alejandra is no longer with us but her night is endless in my joy.

We could have been friends,
sharing some night;
but death does us part,
her death,
her night.
This is a song for the souls lost in the night.
In our night.
This my night, and Pizarnik's and son many others'.
I hope to see you
at
the birth
of day.