Translation of above letter:

Diego.
Truth is, so great, that I wouldn’t like to speak, or sleep, or listen, or love. To feel myself trapped, with no fear of blood, outside time and magic, within your own fear, and your great anguish, and within the very beating of your heart. All this madness, if I asked it of you, I know, in your silence, there would be only confusion. I ask you for violence, in the nonsense, and you, you give me grace, your light and your warmth. I’d like to paint you, but there are no colors, because there are so many, in my confusion, the tangible form of my great love.

F.

Transcription of the first half of above letter:

Diego:

Nada comparable a tus manos ni nada igual al oro-verde de tus ojos.
Mi cuerpo se llena de ti por días y días.
Eres el espejo de la noche. La luz violenta del relámpago. La humedad de la tierra.
El hueco de tus axilas es mi refugio.
Toda mi alegría es sentir brotar la vida de tu fuente-flor que la mía guarda para llenar todos los caminos de mis nervios que son los tuyos.

Edited:

• Read more on Frida Kahlo’s love letters (via Huffington Post)
• See the book, The Letters of Frida Kahlo: Cartas Apasionadas (via GoodReads)
• Some translations of the letters posted here (via Brain Pickings)
• 25 of Frida’s letters auctioned for $137,000
• Synopses of Frida’s letters to Bartoli by Hayden Herrera here, prepared in anticipation of the auction (via Doyle New York)