Be kissed
I became a different person after being kissed: I became a different person because of the pulse synchronized with my pulse and the smell detected from my breath. Now my stomach is as high as my heart. ……
I even found a scent of flowers in my breath: it was all because that little thing was lying in my body like dew on the grass!
What will he look like?
What he'll look like. I stared at the petals of a rose for a long time and touched them happily: I hope his little face is as beautiful as petals. I play in the intertwined blackberries, because I hope his hair is black and curly like that. However, I don't care if his skin is as black and red as the clay that potters like, and his hair is as straight as my life.
I overlook the valley. When the fog covers there, I imagine the fog as the silhouette of a girl, a very lovely girl, because it may also be a girl.
But most importantly, I hope his eyes are as sweet as that person's and his voice is as trembling as what that person said to me, because I hope to pin my love on him for the person who kissed me.
sweet
The child I am pregnant is asleep, and my steps are quiet. Ever since I was pregnant with this mysterious thing, my whole mood has been pious.
My voice is gentle, as if with silent love, because I am afraid to wake him up.
Now my eyes look for inner pain in people's faces, so that others can see and understand the reason why I look pale.
I carefully pulled down the grass where quails built their nests. I walked gently in the field. I believe that trees also have sleeping children, so I bow my head to protect them.
Eternal pain
If he suffers from me, I will be pale; I feel pain for his secret oppression. The slightest activity of a person I can't see may kill me, but don't think that I am inextricably linked with him only when I am pregnant with him. When he walks freely in the field, even if he is far away from me, the wind blowing on him will tear my flesh, and his cry will be shouted through my voice. My crying and laughing are based on your face, my child.
Images of the earth
I have never seen a real image of the earth before. The earth looks like a woman with a child in her arms.
I gradually understand the maternal nature of things. Overlooking my mountain, it is also my mother. At dusk, the mist plays on her shoulders and knees like a child.
Now I think of the valley. The running water at the bottom of the stream is covered with thorns, but it can't be seen, only songs can be heard.
I am also like a valley; I feel a trickle singing in my depths, covered by thorns in my body, and I haven't seen the light yet.
To her husband.
Honey, don't hold me tight. You let him float deep in my body like a lily in the water. Let me stay like still water.
Love me, give me more love! How petite I am, I will always be with you; How pitiful I am, I give you eyes and lips to enjoy the pleasure of the world; How fragile I am, love will make me crack like a clay pot and pour out the wine of life.
Forgive me! I was all thumbs when I poured you wine; It is you who have enriched me into what I am now, and you have made my behavior so strange.
Yeah, I'm better than before. Don't disturb my blood urgently, and don't excite my breathing.
Now I'm just a veil; My whole body is just a gauze curtain, under which a child sleeps!
dawn
I tossed and turned all night, and I trembled all night to give gifts. My forehead is covered with the sweat of death; No, not death, but life!
God, in order to make him born smoothly, I call you infinitely sweet now.
When I was born, my painful breath rose to dawn and I joined the birds.
Sacred law
People say that after giving birth, life is weakened in me, and my blood flows out of the juicer like grape juice; But I just feel comfortable with my breath!
I asked myself, "Who am I, with a child on my knee?"
I answered myself: "A loving person, when kissed, her love demands eternity."
The earth looked at me with her child in her arms and blessed me, because I was as rich as the apple of my eye.
A brief introduction to the author of Mother's Poems;
Mistral (1889 ~ 1957) is a Chilean poetess. /kloc-began to publish poetry at the age of 0/4, and became famous with Sonnets of Death. 1922 published the first book of poetry, Despair, and became a poet from then on. Since then, there have been collections of poetry and prose, such as tenderness (1924), white clouds blossoming (1934), glimpses of Chile (1934), mother's poems (1934), etc. 1945 Nobel Prize in Literature became the first writer in Latin America to win this honor.