EL JALEO
Rafael Campo
“El Jaleo”
John Singer Sargeant
How long I’ve dreamed this same uncanny dream:
A woman dances with me, but she pulls
away, her body floating half-lit in
the flickering of the hearth, soft and yet
so fiercely strong she won’t release me from
her grip. How long I’ve dreamed of her, it seems,
contorted and yet graceful arching back,
her dark averted eyes, her dress engulfing her
as if it were about to become flame itself.
How long I’ve dreamed, of shadows that could speak,
of time held still, of having her thick arms
embracing me, the night close in like death.
The music plays forever though, because
this dance is nothing but a dream of dance.
How long I’ve wished to never be alone:
as anyone who watching from without
imagines that a dream like this must end,
I know it can’t. We want so much to dance.
Awakened to the stamp and scuff of feet,
the thrum of the guitars yet audible,
all night she dances, near but out of reach.
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