jueves, abril 19, 2007

Carlos Barbarito. Here and alone, talking to no one... (Translated from the Spanish by Jonah Gabry)

Here and alone, talking to no one.

From the foliage, the constant shadowy tree.

The boy has no pity and wanders off in the water.

He fades, locks himself away with his secret.

For sanctity, a thick silence will be enough.

To kill, a color will be enough, ochre or bright red.

They surround the city, they devastate and burn it.

The depths divide, and the fishing cannot begin.

They will gather handkerchiefs where nothing remains.

There will be, surely, a fallen eye and a No amid weeping and blood.

An erroneous smoke, without fire.

Lime from China, a century without your sex.

The arch tautens, the date separates.

The answer breaks against the metal of the echo.

The heart fails, every bird is shipwrecked.

A void where only time and motors go.

A language that perhaps only I know.

Or certain rare animals know, the dead.