Poem
Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
THE EARTH’S APPOINTMENT
He had everything until the word arrived.During the vigil I knew the blue cry. I tried on all the masks, even that of the inner you. I expected my poverty would make me free and I denounced the ones who decided to inherit the deserts.
I pointed at them with a hand of salt and I deserted from the light.
The revolt of desire left us in the open.
We imitated the paleness of the moon and we cured the wound of insomnia with the tremulous window of a naked body.
Tears, fear, visions, and all that will be remembrance, forced me to flee from my face.
The earth summoned her witnesses and the trees were read by the wind. Fire interrogated our dreams anew.
The blood of dawn fell on my breast and I endured the cruel reign of the hours.
I don’t know how much more I must lose for the poem to be revealed to me. I don’t know which is the thirst I must whet to continue breathing. I evaded the routes proposed by the sun. I baptised everything that was lost. I inhabited the Age of the Shout. I set out on the way to my voice.
And now, when I close my eyes, someone returns to life.
© Translation: 2008, Nicolás Suescún
CITA DE LA TIERRA
CITA DE LA TIERRA
Lo tenía todo hasta que llegó la palabra.Durante la vigilia conocí el grito azul. Probé todas las máscaras incluidas las del tú. Esperé que mi pobreza me hiciera libre y delaté a aquellos que decidieron heredar los desiertos.
Los señalé con mano de sal y deserté de la luz.
La sublevación del deseo nos dejó a la intemperie.
Imitamos la palidez de la luna y curamos la herida del insomnio con la ventana trémula de un cuerpo desnudo.
Las lágrimas, el miedo, las visiones, y todo lo que será recuerdo, me forzó a la fuga de mi rostro.
La tierra citó a sus testigos y los árboles fueron leídos por el viento. El fuego nuevamente interrogó nuestros sueños.
La sangre del amanecer cayó en mi pecho y padecí el cruel reinado de las horas.
No sé cuánto más debo perder para que me sea develado el poema. No sé cuál es la sed que debo atizar para continuar en la respiración. Eludí las rutas propuestas por el sol. Bauticé todo lo perdido. Habité la Edad del grito. Emprendí el camino hacia mi voz.
Y ahora, cuando cierro los ojos, alguien regresa a la vida.
© 2005, Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
Publisher: Los Conjurados, Bogotá
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
Publisher: Los Conjurados, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
Close
THE EARTH’S APPOINTMENT
He had everything until the word arrived.During the vigil I knew the blue cry. I tried on all the masks, even that of the inner you. I expected my poverty would make me free and I denounced the ones who decided to inherit the deserts.
I pointed at them with a hand of salt and I deserted from the light.
The revolt of desire left us in the open.
We imitated the paleness of the moon and we cured the wound of insomnia with the tremulous window of a naked body.
Tears, fear, visions, and all that will be remembrance, forced me to flee from my face.
The earth summoned her witnesses and the trees were read by the wind. Fire interrogated our dreams anew.
The blood of dawn fell on my breast and I endured the cruel reign of the hours.
I don’t know how much more I must lose for the poem to be revealed to me. I don’t know which is the thirst I must whet to continue breathing. I evaded the routes proposed by the sun. I baptised everything that was lost. I inhabited the Age of the Shout. I set out on the way to my voice.
And now, when I close my eyes, someone returns to life.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
THE EARTH’S APPOINTMENT
He had everything until the word arrived.During the vigil I knew the blue cry. I tried on all the masks, even that of the inner you. I expected my poverty would make me free and I denounced the ones who decided to inherit the deserts.
I pointed at them with a hand of salt and I deserted from the light.
The revolt of desire left us in the open.
We imitated the paleness of the moon and we cured the wound of insomnia with the tremulous window of a naked body.
Tears, fear, visions, and all that will be remembrance, forced me to flee from my face.
The earth summoned her witnesses and the trees were read by the wind. Fire interrogated our dreams anew.
The blood of dawn fell on my breast and I endured the cruel reign of the hours.
I don’t know how much more I must lose for the poem to be revealed to me. I don’t know which is the thirst I must whet to continue breathing. I evaded the routes proposed by the sun. I baptised everything that was lost. I inhabited the Age of the Shout. I set out on the way to my voice.
And now, when I close my eyes, someone returns to life.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère