Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Miguel Iriarte

SALT PRAYER

I have come to say it
With whatever sea there is in my words.

This dish of salt, dear children
These grains of salt I brought from the sea
This morning
Have been cultivated for centuries
In their extreme truth
And I won them from the storms of my soul
And the monsters of fear pursued by my dolphins
And the mysteries of the deep calling me.

They’re here, kids, to ease the poverty
Of this house.
And to light the fog of this pier
Where only remembrances and ghosts,
Rust of time and the drowned of other waters anchor.

Do not spill it on the table.
Do not let its most perfect diamond
Be mixed with the jumble of the earth
Do not let its candle burn
Do not feed too much on it
Nor pour your brine on the wrong wound
Opened
By the sheet of metal or by sorrow
But most of all,
Do not let your dreams be corrupted
Thus saved from the void.

This desire for salt, my love
Has to penetrate your innermost recesses
To feed the hunger of my tongue
To save my heart with this seasoning
To take with me a memory of flavors
And not look back, burnt statue of oblivion.

Lord
Drive the salt from my pupils
Let me see the sea from your shore
Keep the salt of those who have bad luck
Keep for me the crude salt of each day
The salt of my bread, of my love and of poetry.

ORACIÓN DE LA SAL

ORACIÓN DE LA SAL

He venido a decirlo
Con lo que puede haber de mar en mis palabras.

Este plato de sal, queridos hijos
Estos granos de sal que he traído desde el mar
Esta mañana
Han sido cultivados en su extensa verdad
Desde hace siglos
Y se los he ganado a las tormentas de mi alma
Y a los monstruos del miedo que persiguen mis delfines
Y a los misterios del fondo que me llaman.

Están aquí, muchachos, para calmar la pobreza
De esta casa.
Y para iluminar la bruma de este muelle
En el que sólo atracan recuerdos y fantasmas
Orín de tiempo y ahogados de otras aguas.

No la rieguen en la tabla de la mesa.
No dejen que su diamante más perfecto
Se confunda en el desorden de la tierra
No permitan que arda en la candela
No se alimenten con ella en demasía
Ni derramen su salmuera en la herida equivocada
Abierta
Por la hoja de metal o por la pena
Pero ante todo,
No dejen que sus sueños la corrompan
Y así estarán salvados de la nada.

Este deseo de sal amada mía
Tiene que ser navegado en tus rincones
Para que se alimente el hambre de mi lengua
Para salvar mi corazón con ese aliño
Para llevarme un recuerdo de sabores
Y no mirar atrás, estatua calcinada del olvido.

Señor
Aparta la sal de mis pupilas
Déjame ver el mar desde tu orilla
Guarda la sal de aquellos que tienen mala suerte
Ten para mí la cruda sal de cada día
La de mi pan, la de mi amor y la poesía.
Close

SALT PRAYER

I have come to say it
With whatever sea there is in my words.

This dish of salt, dear children
These grains of salt I brought from the sea
This morning
Have been cultivated for centuries
In their extreme truth
And I won them from the storms of my soul
And the monsters of fear pursued by my dolphins
And the mysteries of the deep calling me.

They’re here, kids, to ease the poverty
Of this house.
And to light the fog of this pier
Where only remembrances and ghosts,
Rust of time and the drowned of other waters anchor.

Do not spill it on the table.
Do not let its most perfect diamond
Be mixed with the jumble of the earth
Do not let its candle burn
Do not feed too much on it
Nor pour your brine on the wrong wound
Opened
By the sheet of metal or by sorrow
But most of all,
Do not let your dreams be corrupted
Thus saved from the void.

This desire for salt, my love
Has to penetrate your innermost recesses
To feed the hunger of my tongue
To save my heart with this seasoning
To take with me a memory of flavors
And not look back, burnt statue of oblivion.

Lord
Drive the salt from my pupils
Let me see the sea from your shore
Keep the salt of those who have bad luck
Keep for me the crude salt of each day
The salt of my bread, of my love and of poetry.

SALT PRAYER

I have come to say it
With whatever sea there is in my words.

This dish of salt, dear children
These grains of salt I brought from the sea
This morning
Have been cultivated for centuries
In their extreme truth
And I won them from the storms of my soul
And the monsters of fear pursued by my dolphins
And the mysteries of the deep calling me.

They’re here, kids, to ease the poverty
Of this house.
And to light the fog of this pier
Where only remembrances and ghosts,
Rust of time and the drowned of other waters anchor.

Do not spill it on the table.
Do not let its most perfect diamond
Be mixed with the jumble of the earth
Do not let its candle burn
Do not feed too much on it
Nor pour your brine on the wrong wound
Opened
By the sheet of metal or by sorrow
But most of all,
Do not let your dreams be corrupted
Thus saved from the void.

This desire for salt, my love
Has to penetrate your innermost recesses
To feed the hunger of my tongue
To save my heart with this seasoning
To take with me a memory of flavors
And not look back, burnt statue of oblivion.

Lord
Drive the salt from my pupils
Let me see the sea from your shore
Keep the salt of those who have bad luck
Keep for me the crude salt of each day
The salt of my bread, of my love and of poetry.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère