When in her fiery nights Yací wakes afraid
in warrior and invades her bed. The voices suffocated
in the dark, grows the silence, serpent he furls up
and wraps round her body
Little by little rises sinuous, caresses soften
the harshness of his scales.
Rising through her long hair saying: my love
Is stone, is water.
Where is his nest? Sailing through leaves
arched cypresses reaches it in delirium,
taking her breath away: cloud she, pulp of mature fruit,
savage odours and colours.
Thoughts without meaning exalt her body:
her senses seven leaps of a lascivious cat,
interrogates herself, thinks, sobbing in the her braids.
Yací embraces his gilded thighs.
From afar does your river begin Boto.
In discord deep looks intertwine,
She looks for strength in her viscera.
The nails lacerate the hips, the legs, the back of Boto:
Vendetta yearned for.
Listens to her name whispered by him: Yací.
Without remorse Boto wounds and she melts.
Looks for him in the nights without rest,
in the following days he arrives unexpected.
He appears and she becomes elated.
Horses, nests, birds, butterflies,
wood, mountains, branches, spheres brooks
Boto half water
half fish and half man.
When he loves he reaches the river's bed,
rides swept away by the waters,
floods the shrubs between the islands.
Yací clasps the scales in her arms
Fish that flees, taste of water and fruits of the sea
Boto, fish salt-sun-salt. Life. Breath.
Márcia Theóphilo - 1985
English version by Hania Kochansky -1999