DEATH
As if situated in a vague and remote space
death comes
to take us by the arm.
One can think that she is our shadow or our dream,
or perhaps a big sister
who left home a long time ago,
but surprises everyone like the arrival of an unexpected wave
or the crying of a prodigal child.
In the drunkenness of night
death
with its song of a crow,
with its golden halos shooting fire,
wakes us in a dream or in lethargy.
It lances us toward the absolute calm of darkness.
Then we understand
that it has always been near
that its presence is like the murmuring of a river
bordering the edge of our delta.
But at the hour of the abyss
the hour of the deadly concert
—when the Fanzah* bird sings its requiem in the backyard
or ancient bells ring,
death is not as unusual
as it is thought to be
like the impenetrable shade
that suddenly bursts into flame
and the terrifying night
in a labyrinth of perfume
where anemones begin to blossom
in the distant yard on the other side.
*see tales of Calila and Dimna (1251)
Winston Morales Chavarro (Columbia)
From Antologia
translated by Jonathan Harrington
lunes, 1 de julio de 2013
sábado, 29 de junio de 2013
ANIQUIRONA XXVI
Há uma mulher em
minha casa
Eu não sei se olha
para o canto, para o mundoDe qual lugar ela se gira.
É como o vento, árvore noite, uma oração para os casos difíceis.
Como se o sonho não fosse o suficiente
Para entender completamente.
Minha mente se volta para as alturas, como candidato a não sei qual cordilheira
Eu não sei de qual precipício.
Há uma mulher que se
casou comigo
Quando eu descobri
apenasQue nasci para ser um homem e dormir.
o que acontece a um rio resmungando ventos moderados
de nostalgia plausível ou fantástico mundo.
Uma mulher em meus
sonho
Uma mulher em que
nem eu não sei , para quais locais cessa a fazer curvas.
A mulher a quem as
árvores, os pássaros e até mesmo campos do quotidiano falado com a vocação maravilhosa comunicam-lhe segredos inescrutáveis pedras e rios
Há uma mulher que olha nos meus mundos subterrâneos e os seus seios como decantado
balsâmico são como sombras que vivo, e sabe
todos os segredos das minhas noites oprimidas na lua macia da minha angústia.
Traducción: Diva Franco
miércoles, 26 de junio de 2013
LAZARUS
Lazarus
To Jader Rivera Monje.
Now that I am so many things
at once
Now that I assume my former
lives
And throw them to the flesh
or the mud
so they become poems
or little leaves that face
The crisp air of Zaire
They call me Lazarus.
I am Lazarus
Son of Bethania
Brother of Martha and Mary
I have known death
The river of roses, gladioles,
violets, myrth and lilies
That i have journeyed,
navigated and breathed
The four days that lasted
That Odyssey through the
fascinating world of shadows.
I am Lazarus
I have seventy names
Music, wind, bird, ox and
rain
Are some of them
I believe in resurrection
In survival
In the warm breeze that go
far
Beyond these tribes
I have risen from the mud
nine times
And now
I am the dust that does not
turn to dust
My hands and feet
Arer still tied up with
funeral garbs
But it is also true
that under my body grow the
herbs
the worm, the centipede, the
fragrant calambrinas
The seagull that takes off
in a flight
looking for other air
currentes.
I am Lazarus
Inhabitant of Bethania
Friend of the synagogues
Of Canaan, Carfarnaum,
Nazareth, Galilee
and other distant lands
whose names you would not
understand
My face is covered with a
cloth
But every time I rise to
life
Every time a butterfly
reminds me that a I have
been born again
The cloth gives way
To other stars, other
lights,
New animal species, other
roads.
I am Lazrus
In this trip at the end of
life
I will seat on another rock
To spin the sacred cord
The piece of river
That sends me back to
another current
Where all the voices claim,
All the musicians sing,
All the rains say:
“Lazarus, arise!"
Winston Morales Chavarro
Translation: Luis Rafael
Gálvez
lunes, 24 de junio de 2013
APOLLO
Apollo
Come
beloved Daphne
Let
us go through life and through the woods
Like
two suns wounded by enthusiasm.
Let's
celebrate ourselves in the prison of the demonic
In
the deliberate indigence of love.
Time
is short
The
night rushing like lightning
Filigrees
its sentence
Recovers
its daggers in the declinations of symmetry
In
the archetypes and quibbles of the
correspondences.
Come,
beloved Daphne,
Let
us go through life
Before
the kiss of death is born in our lips,
Before
the ire of the gods turns and twists
In the leaves of the
Laurel and the
wines
Let
us go
Let us play at being Achaeans and Trojans
Discarding
all the things they built
Let
us breathe deep, knowing ourselves so tall,
So
beautiful and crazy like water,
Like
the wind and the night that passes through the
sexes
Of
those who love each other tenderly
Come, daughter of Peneus
Let
us go through the labyrinths of shadows;
Let's
love each other ‘til our arms
Fall exhausted before the sun,
Winston Morales Chavarro
Translation: Luis Rafael Gálvez
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