Poem
Eduardo Gómez
THE INNUMERABLE TRAVELER
Look for me behind the trees sunken in the nightbeyond the last houses of the poor quarters
in the forsaken alleys and one-night cheap hotels
in the cemeteries dreaming of the infinite choir of crickets
in the parks anointed by crime and passion
in the ruined palaces made enormous by dusk.
I am the passenger of midnight trains
the traveler of ships sailing through fogs
or under black skies with a dying moon
the widower of impossible weddings
the nostalgic for the Age of the Gods
the dreamer of abolished empires and sinister legends
the teller of tales of cruel dwarfs and sweet beheaded oxen
the funereal friend and the chained lover
the minstrel of castles in the air and scorching deserts
the fisher of condemned souls
he who trembles in the burning bush of melancholy
and he who wails in obscene agony.
There where cut irises distil blood and poisoned tears
where behind every nocturnal flower breathes
a fairy from Paradise Lost
there where a boy sobs in the limbo of the unborn
in those penumbrous chambers where the songs of the hanged vibrate
there I will tirelessly wait for you.
There is where Mephistopheles shaved and polite
listens to Bach cantatas and the seraphic delights of Handel
where Bolivar destroys patriotic altars with his sword
where Goethe meditates facing the tempest of the Great Ocean
where Beethoven sweats blood in silent gardens
where Baudelaire converses with vampires and sorcerers
in labyrinths where the moon dreams of blue shadows
and Proust suffocates of love in rooms of felt
where Shakespeare flies through boundless skies
in the purplish horizons of bristling Himalayas
there I will be — tirelessly — waiting for you.
© Translation: 2008, Nicolás Suescún
EL VIAJERO INNUMERABLE
EL VIAJERO INNUMERABLE
Búscame detrás de los árboles sumidos en la nochemás allá de las últimas casas de los barrios pobres
entre las callejuelas desamparadas y en los hoteluchos
en los cementerios que sueñan con el coro infinito de los grillos
en los parques ungidos por el crimen y la pasión
en los palacios ruinosos que el crepúsculo agiganta.
Soy el pasajero de los trenes de medianoche
el viajero de barcos navegando entre nieblas
o bajo cielos negros para una luna en agonía
el viudo de bodas imposibles
el nostálgico de la Edad de los Dioses
el soñador de imperios abolidos y leyendas siniestras
el narrador de historias de enanos crueles y dulces bueyes degollados
el amigo fúnebre y el amante encadenado
el trovador de castillos-en-el-aire y desiertos ardientes
el pescador de almas condenadas
el que tiembla en la zarza ardiente de la melancolía
y el que gime en una obscena agonía.
Allí donde los lirios cortados destilan sangre y llanto emponzoñado
donde respira detrás de cada flor nocturna
un hada del Paraíso Perdido
allí donde solloza un niño en el limbo de los que no nacieron
en esas estancias penumbrosas donde vibran canciones de ahorcados
allí estaré infatigable esperándote.
Allí donde Mefistófeles rasurado y cortés
escucha las cantatas de Bach y los gozos seráficos de Händel
donde Bolívar destroza con su espada los altares patrióticos
donde Goethe medita ante la tempestad del Gran Océano
donde Beethoven suda sangre en los huertos silenciosos
donde Baudelaire conversa con los vampiros y los brujos
en laberintos donde la luna sueña sombras azules
y Proust se asfixia de amor en estancias de fieltro
allí donde Shakespeare vuela por cielos desmesurados
en los cárdenos horizontes de erizados Himalayas
allí estaré –infatigable- esperándote.
© 1983, Eduardo Gómez
From: El viajero innumerable
Publisher: Tercer Mundo, Bogotá
From: El viajero innumerable
Publisher: Tercer Mundo, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of Eduardo Gómez
Close
THE INNUMERABLE TRAVELER
Look for me behind the trees sunken in the nightbeyond the last houses of the poor quarters
in the forsaken alleys and one-night cheap hotels
in the cemeteries dreaming of the infinite choir of crickets
in the parks anointed by crime and passion
in the ruined palaces made enormous by dusk.
I am the passenger of midnight trains
the traveler of ships sailing through fogs
or under black skies with a dying moon
the widower of impossible weddings
the nostalgic for the Age of the Gods
the dreamer of abolished empires and sinister legends
the teller of tales of cruel dwarfs and sweet beheaded oxen
the funereal friend and the chained lover
the minstrel of castles in the air and scorching deserts
the fisher of condemned souls
he who trembles in the burning bush of melancholy
and he who wails in obscene agony.
There where cut irises distil blood and poisoned tears
where behind every nocturnal flower breathes
a fairy from Paradise Lost
there where a boy sobs in the limbo of the unborn
in those penumbrous chambers where the songs of the hanged vibrate
there I will tirelessly wait for you.
There is where Mephistopheles shaved and polite
listens to Bach cantatas and the seraphic delights of Handel
where Bolivar destroys patriotic altars with his sword
where Goethe meditates facing the tempest of the Great Ocean
where Beethoven sweats blood in silent gardens
where Baudelaire converses with vampires and sorcerers
in labyrinths where the moon dreams of blue shadows
and Proust suffocates of love in rooms of felt
where Shakespeare flies through boundless skies
in the purplish horizons of bristling Himalayas
there I will be — tirelessly — waiting for you.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
From: El viajero innumerable
From: El viajero innumerable
THE INNUMERABLE TRAVELER
Look for me behind the trees sunken in the nightbeyond the last houses of the poor quarters
in the forsaken alleys and one-night cheap hotels
in the cemeteries dreaming of the infinite choir of crickets
in the parks anointed by crime and passion
in the ruined palaces made enormous by dusk.
I am the passenger of midnight trains
the traveler of ships sailing through fogs
or under black skies with a dying moon
the widower of impossible weddings
the nostalgic for the Age of the Gods
the dreamer of abolished empires and sinister legends
the teller of tales of cruel dwarfs and sweet beheaded oxen
the funereal friend and the chained lover
the minstrel of castles in the air and scorching deserts
the fisher of condemned souls
he who trembles in the burning bush of melancholy
and he who wails in obscene agony.
There where cut irises distil blood and poisoned tears
where behind every nocturnal flower breathes
a fairy from Paradise Lost
there where a boy sobs in the limbo of the unborn
in those penumbrous chambers where the songs of the hanged vibrate
there I will tirelessly wait for you.
There is where Mephistopheles shaved and polite
listens to Bach cantatas and the seraphic delights of Handel
where Bolivar destroys patriotic altars with his sword
where Goethe meditates facing the tempest of the Great Ocean
where Beethoven sweats blood in silent gardens
where Baudelaire converses with vampires and sorcerers
in labyrinths where the moon dreams of blue shadows
and Proust suffocates of love in rooms of felt
where Shakespeare flies through boundless skies
in the purplish horizons of bristling Himalayas
there I will be — tirelessly — waiting for you.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
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