Poem
Fernando Rendón
Convergence
Lying like pieces of wood, the red bark wrinkled, some rotting buffaloes melting on thegreen prairie.
But also due to an inexplicable act of fate, lying like mushrooms in the grass we explore
all millennia, we run away from prehistoric beasts, we fought all the wars, we are
millions of beings stretching under the arch of eternity, while dragon and longing
engage in combat in the clouds.
The sun calls and to hesitate is to die. Fly, fly beautiful swan of desire, everything
can be achieved.
Walking on the white dew, take your shoes off: the age of a man is that of his look at
the legendary wood.
© Translation: 2005, Nicolás Suescún
Convergencia
Convergencia
Tirados como leños, la roja corteza arrugada, somos búfalos que se pudren derritiéndosesobre la pradera verde.
Pero también debido a un inexplicable acto de azar, tirados como setas en la hierba
exploramos todos los milenios, huimos de bestias prehistóricas, peleamos todas las
guerras, somos millones de seres estirándonos bajo el arco de la eternidad, mientras
combaten dragón y anhelo en las nubes.
El sol nos llama y titubear es morir. Vuela, vuela bello cisne del deseo, todo se
puede lograr.
Caminando sobre el blanco rocío, descálzate: la edad del hombre es la de su mirada
sobre el bosque legendario.
© 1985, Fernando Rendón
From: Contrahistoria
Publisher: Ediciones Coopiss, Medellín
From: Contrahistoria
Publisher: Ediciones Coopiss, Medellín
Poems
Poems of Fernando Rendón
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Convergence
Lying like pieces of wood, the red bark wrinkled, some rotting buffaloes melting on thegreen prairie.
But also due to an inexplicable act of fate, lying like mushrooms in the grass we explore
all millennia, we run away from prehistoric beasts, we fought all the wars, we are
millions of beings stretching under the arch of eternity, while dragon and longing
engage in combat in the clouds.
The sun calls and to hesitate is to die. Fly, fly beautiful swan of desire, everything
can be achieved.
Walking on the white dew, take your shoes off: the age of a man is that of his look at
the legendary wood.
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
From: Contrahistoria
From: Contrahistoria
Convergence
Lying like pieces of wood, the red bark wrinkled, some rotting buffaloes melting on thegreen prairie.
But also due to an inexplicable act of fate, lying like mushrooms in the grass we explore
all millennia, we run away from prehistoric beasts, we fought all the wars, we are
millions of beings stretching under the arch of eternity, while dragon and longing
engage in combat in the clouds.
The sun calls and to hesitate is to die. Fly, fly beautiful swan of desire, everything
can be achieved.
Walking on the white dew, take your shoes off: the age of a man is that of his look at
the legendary wood.
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
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