Querido L.:
Después de la agitada mañana de ayer, abrí de nuevo tu ejemplar de Hojas de hierba. El lunes te lo devuelvo porque hoy saldré a por el mío. Estuve buscando algo que calmara mi espíritu pero solo encuentro una exaltación que me no conviene nada. Eso sí: mucho mejor traducida de lo que hasta ahora había visto. Leí hace unos días la introducción de Eduardo Moga que se hace imprescindible para entender el libro de Whitman. Luego busqué al azar y encontré esto, una especie de Cheever avant la lettre.
 
“I see a beautiful gigantic swimmer swimming naked through the eddies of the sea,
His brown hair lies close and even to his head, he strikes out with courageous arms, he urges himself with his legs,
I see his white body, I see his undaunted eyes,
I hate the swift-running eddies that would dash him head-foremost on the rocks.
 
What are you doing you ruffianly red-trickled waves?
Will you kill the courageous giant? will you kill him in the prime of his middle-age?
 
Steady and long he struggles,
He is baffled, bang’d, bruis’d, he holds out while his strength holds out,
The slapping eddies are spotted with his blood, they bear him away, they roll him, swing him, turn him,
His beautiful body is borne in the circling eddies, it is continually bruis’d on rocks,
Swiftly and out of sight is borne the brave corpse”.
 

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Hojas de hierba
Walt Whitman ed. Galaxia Gutenberg Círculo de lectores