Poem
Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
OBSCURE BIRTH
Aside from you, I only love what belongs to everybody . . .I destroy my bond with the sun. My end will end up finding me.
Turned into fragments you guide me to the new flavour, the knowledge of water.
How many dreams have we not used?
You veer, you perfect yourself: you become vegetable. Your fingers fall like leaves . . .
A word is in agony. I turn blind.
None of my questions have answers, you say with amber voice. Not solitude, nor birth . . .
The eyes rebel. An ephemeral god that we must devour arises among us. Fearful, we hand over the names. We learn the first syllables. It is not possible to disbelieve in fear with its foundations, its sacred tunnels, its somber genesis, its ardent evasiveness . . .
Even though sometimes love separates us.
No one burns twice in the same fire.
Woman, bring the earth, warm yourself with its shadow. Renew yourself in the darkness, flee in your breathing . . . Do not substitute death with the writing of verticality . . .
Listen to time coming.
© Translation: 2008, Nicolás Suescún
OSCURO NACIMIENTO
OSCURO NACIMIENTO
Fuera de ti, amo sólo lo que es de todos . . .Destruyo mi alianza con el sol. Mi fin acabará por encontrarme.
Convertida en fragmentos me guías al nuevo sabor, saber del agua.
¿Cuántos sueños no hemos usado?
Giras, te perfeccionas: te tornas vegetal. Tus dedos caen como hojas . . .
Una palabra agoniza. Enceguezco.
Ninguna de mis preguntas tiene respuesta, dices con voz de ámbar. Ni soledad, ni nacimiento . . .
Los ojos se rebelan. Surge entre nosotros un dios efímero que debemos devorar. Atemorizados entregamos los nombres. Aprendemos las primeras sílabas. No es posible descreer del miedo con sus fundaciones, sus túneles sagrados, sus sombrías génesis, sus evasivas ardientes...
Aunque a veces nos distancie el amor.
Nadie arde dos veces en el mismo fuego.
Mujer, trae la tierra, abrígate con tu sombra. Renuévate en las tinieblas, escapa en tu respiración . . . No sustituyas la muerte por la escritura de la verticalidad . . .
Escucha venir el tiempo.
© 2005, Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
From: Oscuro nacimiento
Publisher: Los Conjurados, Bogotá
From: Oscuro nacimiento
Publisher: Los Conjurados, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
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OBSCURE BIRTH
Aside from you, I only love what belongs to everybody . . .I destroy my bond with the sun. My end will end up finding me.
Turned into fragments you guide me to the new flavour, the knowledge of water.
How many dreams have we not used?
You veer, you perfect yourself: you become vegetable. Your fingers fall like leaves . . .
A word is in agony. I turn blind.
None of my questions have answers, you say with amber voice. Not solitude, nor birth . . .
The eyes rebel. An ephemeral god that we must devour arises among us. Fearful, we hand over the names. We learn the first syllables. It is not possible to disbelieve in fear with its foundations, its sacred tunnels, its somber genesis, its ardent evasiveness . . .
Even though sometimes love separates us.
No one burns twice in the same fire.
Woman, bring the earth, warm yourself with its shadow. Renew yourself in the darkness, flee in your breathing . . . Do not substitute death with the writing of verticality . . .
Listen to time coming.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
From: Oscuro nacimiento
From: Oscuro nacimiento
OBSCURE BIRTH
Aside from you, I only love what belongs to everybody . . .I destroy my bond with the sun. My end will end up finding me.
Turned into fragments you guide me to the new flavour, the knowledge of water.
How many dreams have we not used?
You veer, you perfect yourself: you become vegetable. Your fingers fall like leaves . . .
A word is in agony. I turn blind.
None of my questions have answers, you say with amber voice. Not solitude, nor birth . . .
The eyes rebel. An ephemeral god that we must devour arises among us. Fearful, we hand over the names. We learn the first syllables. It is not possible to disbelieve in fear with its foundations, its sacred tunnels, its somber genesis, its ardent evasiveness . . .
Even though sometimes love separates us.
No one burns twice in the same fire.
Woman, bring the earth, warm yourself with its shadow. Renew yourself in the darkness, flee in your breathing . . . Do not substitute death with the writing of verticality . . .
Listen to time coming.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
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