a veces
yo olvido como nombrar algunas cosas –
camas, tazas, sillones -
como se llama una idea en esa lengua
o en esta –
anoche
dentro de unos de estos peleas,
me subí a la espuma-
a las olas que no olvidan nada
y no recuerdan todo
pero ya lo saben la lógica de vivir,
conocimientos de ser
y la verdad sobre el lugar
donde amor se va
cuando no puede soportar su peso propio
yo las pregunté muchísimas cosas
pero ellas no me contestaron nada
solo adelantaron, me tocaron y volvieron a su rutina
de pronto
me di cuenta
que en lugar de cada ola atrasada
una mar me haya envuelto
(*)
At times
I forget the names of things –
beds, cups and armchairs –
how to call things in this tongue
or in that
last night
in the midst of one of these fights,
I went down to the surf –
to the waves that don’t forget everything
and don’t remember everything either,
but already know
the logic of living,
the knowledge of being
and the truth about where love goes
when it can no longer bear its own weight
I asked them many things
but they didn’t reply
they just rose up, and, touching me,
returned to their routine
and all at once
i realised
that in place of every wave that had abandoned me
a sea had risen to envelope me
Sunday, May 18, 2008
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4 comments:
"At times
I forget how the names of things –
beds, cups and armchairs –
how to call things in this tongue
or in that "
So reminiscent of one hundred years of solitude by Marquez. A similar occurrence takes place in the book.
beautiful.
wow.....
i love your endings.... lingering and yet so final.....
i never managed to finish reading 100years of solitude, but maybe one day i'll read it in spanish :)
this particular piece was born out of the desperate attempt to hold on to whatever spanish i can remember...i really do forget the names of things sometimes...
beautiful uchu. :)
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