Sky & Sea (Cielo y Mar) – Cruz Salmerón Acosta

In this panorama I draw
To the torment of my evil hours
The sky speaks about illusion and pride
The sea reasons about hope and daydreams.

The wander dragonfly of my fantasy
Opens the clearness of its wings
With the honey kiss you give me
To the caress of your smiley love.

When the last cloudscape extinguishes
I take the landscape’s soul down my own
Blue of dreaming and green of desire

And I think with a dark pessimism
That my illusion is on the edge of an abyss
And near to another abyss, my hope.

 

Traducción del poema Cielo y Mar de Cruz Salmerón Acosta.

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Love’s depth (Profundidad del amor) – Juan Sánchez Peláez

The love letters I wrote in my childhood were memories of a future lost paradise. The uncertain path of my hope was crossed over the musical hills of my native country. What I chased was the fragile roe deer, the fleeting greyhound, the stone’s beauty that becomes an angel. Yet I do not give out before the drowned sea of the kisses. To the cities encounters- The ankles of an imagined architecture as guide The fury of the prodigal son as food. The parks that dream on the snow, as ancestors, The trees that incite to the greatest melancholy, the oxygen doors the warm southern haze shakes, the deadly woman whose back sweetly inclines in the dismal riverbanks. I love the magic Pearl hidden in the eyes of the silent ones, The bitter dagger of the taciturn. My heart have become the boat of the night and guard of the oppressed. My forehead is the tragic clay, the mortal large candle of the fallen ones, The bell of the autumn afternoons, the sail directed to the less fortunate port or to the most dispossessed one by the storm gusts. I see myself facing the sun, in front of the Mediterranean bays, Voice that flows from a birds’ grass.

My love letters were not love letters, but viscera of loneliness. My love letters were kidnaped by the overseas falcons that are going through the childhood mirror.

My love letters are offerings of a courtesans’ paradise.

What will happen later, for not to tell tomorrow? The old decrepit whispers. Perhaps death whistles, in front of her enchanted eyes, the most beautiful love ballad.

 

Traducción al ingles por Elena Lizcano del poema Profundidad del amor de Juan Sánchez Peláez (Elena y los elementos, 1951).

La sacristía perdida

Al verla zarpar, crucé a nado esa fétida ciénega, atravesé una callejuela de tierra seca y piedras, y pedaleé para aprovechar el asfalto. Mis harapos no me avergonzaban del todo, pero seguían desagarrándose con el viento.

Mi sotana y un bautizo esperaban por mi cuando irrumpí en el templo, pero en una nota sobre el atril se leía <<El rito de la infante puede esperar. Sigue tu rumbo hacia mi puerta, siempre está abierta para ti. Te esperamos con trapos limpios y una cobija, también te guardamos un plato de comida>>.

Eché a pedalear de nuevo: atravesé el pasillo formado por miradas confusas y rodé en picada por su barrio. Luego de buscarla calle por calle, la fatiga logró alcanzarme y me desplomé en la acera. Aunque me atormentaba el golpeteo desatado por mi esa madrugada en la puerta del palafito donde la encontré, no perdía la esperanza de verla llegar a mi auxilio con un manto y algo de sopa, pero sólo me arropó la tempestad de la noche.

No le volví a encontrar el rastro a mi fe.