Caro vitrix.
Efrén Rebolledo.


Biography of Efren Rebolledo.


The skies of your eyes became clouded,
and as an agonizing dove,
you demolished your face in my chest 
that dyed the blushes pink.
Nards and red lilys garden 
was your morbid and flagrant bosom,
and upon succumbing, you opened beating 
the ivory doors of your fennels.
You gave me generous your ardent
lips, your acute tongue which as fine
dart was vibrating in the middle of your teeth.
And docile, gloomy, as a weak leaf
that groans when  the whirlwind passes,
you groaned by delight and by grief.

Safo's kiss.1

More polished than the transparent marble,
whiteer than the white fleeces,
two feminine bodies are knotted
in a sculptural and ardent group.
Zebra's legs, serpent's forshortenings,
categorical curves, Columbian bosoms,
a fire the purple lips,
and the two hairs a torrent.
In the live combat, the nipples
that are assailed, they seemed two pythons
joined in erotic pendencies.
and in the middle of the linked thighs,
two inviolated cocoon roses 
distil and confuse their essences.

Before the altar.

You offer yourself voluptous and careless,
and I feel that your your sovereign body
intact snow of distant outcrop,
silky east sharp pearl.
Eburnian arms, never transparent,
the aromatic bust I kiss conceited,
and from your short and satiny hand
caresses slowly drain.
Your bosom swollens as a milky wave,
the white springy stole stoat 
does not match your thighs' whiteness,
while your abdomen to which I incline my lip,
is a murky thickness lush,
a paradise in a linen moor.

Tristam and Isolde.2

Living chained is their fate,
they love each other with a longing that doesn't kill
possession, and the loop that ties them
challenges the absence and the death.
Tristam is like the bronze, obscure and strong,
he seeks the polished silver lag,
Isolde sucks the scarlet chalice
that lives in a crisp essences scrub.
Because they date in secret, adultery
gives a subtle and criminal bad habit
to their passion that grows-up in the mystery.
And tormented by a scorching anxiety,
drink and drink with sweet-toothed lip
without quenching the thirst that devours them.


like two butterflies are their light
feet, and throwing the veil that shields her,
she appears magnificent and nude
to the brilliancy of the reds reverberations.
On her dark face shine streams
of strange gems, her small mouth 
opens, and lavish her crude fragrance
fresh flowers and rare censers.
Still wishful and sweaty
because of the sensual dance, the opened rose
of her virginity offers to the tetrarch,
and envisaging the livid yokanan 
trophy, the nubile body bends
shaked of horror and desire.

The vampire.4

Your murky and bulk curls roll
over your candid forms as a river,
and I scatter in its crisp and gloomy stream
the lit roses of my kisses.
While I clear the thick
rings, I feel the mild and cold fret brush
of your hand, and a long shiver
travels across me and it penetrates until the bones.
Your chaotic and unsociable eyes
gleam when they listen the sigh
that leaves tearing my gizzard,
and while I agonize, you, thirsty,
simulate a black and tenacious vampire
sustained from my ardent blood. 

Saint Anthony's temptation.5

 It's in vain that he dwells in the desert
the gaunt and sullen cenobite,
because it has not been calmed the infinite
anxiety of loving neither the appetite has died.
From the obscure hood arises an uncertain
profile that has margarita whiteness,
a flesh-colored and exquisite mouth,
a fragrant parting as an orchard.
Before the white and cheerful appearance,
his meat shaken with ardors
feverish under the worsted-yarn cassock,
and thinks with the aching soul,
that instead of a birds and flowers paradise,
life is an immense moor.


Saturated with biblical fragrance
your hairs are lowered in cluster
of black curls, and with sweet caress
in my mouth your fire mouth serves.
Your bosoms erect with untamed fragrance
that with slow hand I oppress,
and your soft body, white, I oppress,
it is reflected in the room moons.
In the softness of your rich bed,
breaking the horrid tyranny
of pain and death chest exults,
and the lethal nuisance and the gloomy
hopelessness and the ferocious spite
melt your ambrosia himen.

In the dark.

The crepe of the deepest shade
wraps up my lucky bed,
and tighting on your forms close to me
by passion you shake moribund.
Your balsamic hair surrounds
your delicate face irises,
and when floating through my fingers unbraided 
from more cassock the thalamus floods.
The soul vibrates in my beating hand
upon feeling your lush hair,
it ploughs silky aroma seas.
it seeks hide delight gardens,
and covering the flowers and the apples 
my caresses silently snow.


As a spectral visne, the white moon
in the transparent space rails,
and in the thick foliage, Filomela
starts melliflous notes from her maw.
Shines in the dark background of the white
your steamy fabric hairdresser,
and seeps through the satin leaves 
or in the clears the snowy light stems.
After traveling through the cold marble
of your polished complexion, I touch a rose
that opens wet of dew:
all silences, and upon feeling the pleasing
heat of your caresses, my ardent
virility stands up as a cat.

The duke of Aumale.7

Under eyelash's dark net
its pupilar of desire shines 
upon seeing the brilliance arabic croup 
and the white back that tarnishes snow.
Sex assails with the erect cane
just as if it excelled in a tournament,
and with happy hand roasts the trophy
of the odoriferous and chestnut plait.
Lutecia's handsome soldier
laughs of his victories, he appreciates more
to have opened a track in the love,
and elegant, magnificent, fidgety,
as a steed shakes when it feels
the pressure of his alabaster weight.


Jidé, I clamour, and your idolizeed form
does not come to end my agony;
Jidé, I appeal, during the gloomy
night and when dawn breaks.
 My tortured meat wishes you,
Jidé, Jidé, and I remember with insistence
freshnesses of your ambrosia arms
and essences of your grenade mouth.
Come to placate my chest anxieties,
Jidé, Jidé, without you ti as a damned
I struggle in the fire of my bed;
Jidé, quench my thirst, tender friend,
Jidé, Jidé, Jidé, and the vain yell
rips the murky and eternal night.

  1. Safo lived in the VI century BC. Born in Mitiline, Lesbos, she created the personal lyric poem through which Catullus and Ovid later passed to all the western languages. Her work has arrived to us almost in fragments.
  2. The leggend of Tristam and Isolde is the one of the lovers united by an eternal love that they can't never accomplish, it's considered in the Denis de Rougemont's book, L'amour en l'Occident (1959) the paradigm of the western romantic love that must be unhappy to be real. It is a history originated in Ireland and one of the first versions is that of Beroul, who is unknown. There is a translation to modern English: The Romance of Tristam by Alan S. Fredrick (Penguin Classics, 1970s).
  3. Daughter of Herod and Herodias who danced to obtain the Saint John's head as a reward. (Saint Matthew 14:3 and Saint Mark 6:16-28).
  4. In the Slavic world it was spread the belief that bad spirits appropriated the corpses in order to reside into them and to survive by sipping the live ones blood. The vampire myth was spread together with the one of the "femme-fatale" in the such called decadent literature. Cinema popularized such obsession and designated as "femme-fatale" their first stars.
  5. Saint Anthony (circa 351-350 BC) was a noble Egyptian who got rid of his fortune to be converted into hermit and resisted, according to the legend, all the temptations that demon invented. Flaubert wrote in 1876 Saint Anthony's Temptation..
  6. Greeks used this name to refer to forgetfulness and, specially, to one of the rivers that run by Hell or Hade. Its waters make to forget the past. When drinking them the dead erase the land existence from their memories .
  7. Maybe it is about Claudius II of Lorena (1523-1753) who in 1550 succeed as Duke of Aumale his brother Francis, Duke of Guisa and grandfather of Mary Stewart. He played an active role in the religious wars. He is one of the principal promoters of Saint Bartolomew's Night (August 24, 1752) in which catholics murdered thousands of Huguenots (French Protestants) that had traveled to Paris for the wedding of Henry IV and Margaret of Valois.

Most recent revision: April 27, 2002.