ESCLAVO DE TU AMOR

A poem by my grandfather, Andrés García Madrid

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I’m attending a very special event. My family is presenting Todos los ríos eran torrentes, a posthumous anthology of poems (1966–2000) by my grandfather, Andrés García Madrid. Today, instead of sharing my words, I will share his. In particular, the poem my mom has chosen to read. It’s entitled Esclavo de tu amor, which translates to “Slave of your love”:

Un clamor de encendido juramento
cruza en sueños, veloz, mi cuerpo todo
salvando la distancia del periodo
que separa tu altar de mi convento.

Esclava del amor como del viento,
vuelas con tu pasión de espuma y yodo
como vuela también, y de qué modo,
esclavo de tu amor, mi pensamiento.

Ardiente de pasión, que no de fuego,
te precipitas, dulce amor soñado,
con una fe, que te desborda y ata,

igual que yo, salvajemente ciego,
feroz, hecho un ciclón, enamorado,
tras la pasión que nuestro amor desata.

I suppose ChatGPT could generate something like this (if it knew how to rhyme a sonnet), but I suspect it wouldn’t make me feel anything at all. I could imprint its words with meaning if I tried, I’m sure, but it’d lack the invaluable promise of a glimpse into a human soul. The soul of a person I hardly knew but loved dearly, even though my memories are so distant they can’t help me reminisce; and whose presence remains, more than anything else, in the verses he left behind.