#pulga

AND I ALSO LOVE DRAWING AGAIN AFTER SO LONG [For me at least]

Hi @sa9vva I'm your secret valentine!

Sorry for the wait, yesterday i realized that ilustrated the chocolate very ugly so i had to remake it lmao

I really enjoyed doing this and i hope you enjoy it too <3

LA PULGA

Mira sólo esta pulga, y considera cuán ínfimo es aquello que me niegas; mi sangre antes chupó, ahora la tuya, y en su vientre las dos andan ligadas. Sabes bien que en tal cosa no hay pecado, deshonra, ni tu flor de ello se amengua.    Así ella goza sin cortejo,    y su sangre dos engordan:    que ya es más de lo que pido.

Para, y tres vidas salva en una pulga, donde ya cabalmente nos casamos. Tú y yo somos la pulga, y este lecho conyugal es, y tálamo sagrado. Sobran querellas, ya estamos unidos, y en tales muros de azabache presos.    Si por hábito me estrujas,    te desesperas, profanas:    con tres muertes tres pecados.

¿Ya te apresuras, cruel, a empurpurar la uña con la sangre de inocentes? ¿De qué crimen culpable fue la pulga, salvo quizá de la sorbida gota? Mas ya te regodeas, victoriosa, diciendo que más flacos no nos hallas.    Cierto, y tu temor qué vano:    tanta honra en ceder perdías    como vida te hurtó el bicho.

*

THE FLEA

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,   How little that which thou deniest me is;   It sucked me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;   Thou know’st that this cannot be said A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,    Yet this enjoys before it woo,    And pampered swells with one blood made of two,    And this, alas, is more than we would do.

Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare, Where we almost, nay more than married are.   This flea is you and I, and this Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;   Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,   And cloistered in these living walls of jet.    Though use make you apt to kill me,    Let not to that, self-murder added be,    And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?   Wherein could this flea guilty be, Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?   Yet thou triumph’st, and say'st that thou   Find’st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;    ’Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:    Just so much honor, when thou yield’st to me,    Will waste, as this flea’s death took life from thee.

John Donne

Tijuana, Mexico

Photo by keigotj