Poem
Fernando Rendón
Floating
IWhen we set out on the grueling march from the Apocalypse of the Shadow of Man,
among the yells of the warriors, under a panic sky that mortally wounded all of our
hopes, all our desires.
When we renounced ourselves to load our hope on the back of the brother, fleeing to the
margins of delirium where you can no longer see the cities of hell.
When we knew that the doors of Spring would open and would not open only to us, that
we would miss without fail the Shadow of Man, which we had loved since the
beginning, when there was no death in the flowery prairies and the quagmires had not
yet emerged from the human mind.
To return then, again, to undo in the heart the knot of our sweet wounded country, the
nothingness of our lost dream of a life shared floating.
II
The gay shadows of the macaws, sheltered in the shadows of the treetops, chatter about
the hullabaloo of the shadows of the apes. The shadow of the frond dances on the
shadow of a jaguar. A violent sun is the only refuge of the salamander. Shadows of slow
clouds on shadows crouching down, shadows that haunt other shadows that are afraid.
The shadow of a man eludes the shadow of another man.
The sea of shadows of the man arriving swoops on the shadow of the man that was. The
always sleepless, the astonished one howls. It is night upon the brook of light, that flows
into the pupil of the Shadow of Man, sticking the shadow to the light.
III
What good is it for a man, his shadow on the desert? The shadow of a tree weighs more
than the shadow of a man. In the desert, the shadow of the sunstruck knows that
paradise is a true shadow.
IV
“The stones shall cry.”
Stone, talisman that chose its princes, bone of the presence and the beginning, I
recognize your sacred spirit.
Our ancestors dug in the stone of the enchantments, went into the stone house of the
spells, where the invisible life speaks.
A prehistoric clock of light, the shadow turns round the stone, which listens to the
heartbeats of man.
The lyre of Anphion raised the floating stones of Thebes. Voices that surged from the
stone go about the labyrinth of the ear.
Descended from the stone of the sun and drowned in shadows, the man no longer listens
to the stone that sings.
V
Lapidaries reveal secret transformations of the solids, new emanations from the urge of
dawn, from the heart of the stone that the lightning inhabited one day, before a shoreless
water emerged under the floating light, forging the interweaving of flowers and animals
to make a mother country of the wood.
© Translation: 2005, Nicolás Suescún
En flotación
En flotación
ICuándo emprendimos la cruenta marcha desde el Apocalipsis de Sombra de Hombre,
entre los alaridos de los guerreros, bajo un cielo pánico que hirió de muerte todas
nuestras esperanzas y deseos.
Cuándo renunciamos a nosotros para echar nuestra suerte a espaldas del hermano,
huyendo a las márgenes del delirio donde las ciudades del infierno ya no se avistan.
Cuándo supimos que las puertas de la primavera se abrirían y no se abrirían a nosotros
solos, que echaríamos sin falta de menos a Sombra de Hombre, a quien amábamos
desde el principio, cuando no había muerte en las florecidas praderas y los cenagales no
habían surgido aún de la mente humana.
De nuevo entonces volver, deshacer en el corazón el nudo de nuestro dulce país herido,
la nada de nuestro perdido sueño de una vida compartida en flotación.
II
Las alegres sombras de las guacamayas, refugiadas en las sombras de las copas de los
árboles, parlotean sobre la algarabía de las sombras de los simios. La sombra de las
frondas danza sobre la sombra del jaguar. Un sol violento es el refugio único de la
salamandra. Sombras de nubes lentas sobre sombras agazapadas, sombras que acechan
sobre sombras que temen. Una sombra de hombre elude la sombra de otro hombre.
El mar de sombras del hombre que llega se abate sobre la sombra del hombre que fue.
Ulula el siempre insomne, el asombrado. Es de noche sobre el riachuelo de luz, que
desemboca en la pupila de Sombra de Hombre, adhiriendo la sombra a la claridad.
III
¿De qué sirve al hombre su sombra en el desierto? La sombra de un árbol pesa más que
la sombra de un hombre. En el desierto, la sombra de los insolados sabe que el paraíso
es una sombra verdadera.
IV
“Las piedras gritarán”.
Piedra, talismán que elegía a los príncipes, hueso de la presencia y el principio,
reconozco tu espíritu sagrado.
Nuestros antepasados cavaron en la piedra de los encantamientos, entraron en la casa de
piedra de los conjuros, donde la vida invisible habla.
Prehistórico reloj de luz, la sombra da vuelta a la piedra, que escucha los latidos del
corazón del hombre.
La lira de Anfión alzó las piedras flotantes de Tebas. Voces brotadas de la piedra
recorren el laberinto del oído.
Descendido de la piedra del sol y anegado de sombra, el hombre ya no escucha a la
piedra, que canta.
V
Lapidarios revelan secretas transformaciones de los sólidos, nuevas emanaciones de la
pulsión del alba, desde el corazón de la piedra que el rayo habitara un día, antes que un
agua sin orillas emergiese bajo la luz flotante, fraguando un entretejido de flores y
animales, para hacer una patria del bosque.
© 2001, Fernando Rendón
From: La fiera es la jaula
Publisher: Inedited,
From: La fiera es la jaula
Publisher: Inedited,
Poems
Poems of Fernando Rendón
Close
Floating
IWhen we set out on the grueling march from the Apocalypse of the Shadow of Man,
among the yells of the warriors, under a panic sky that mortally wounded all of our
hopes, all our desires.
When we renounced ourselves to load our hope on the back of the brother, fleeing to the
margins of delirium where you can no longer see the cities of hell.
When we knew that the doors of Spring would open and would not open only to us, that
we would miss without fail the Shadow of Man, which we had loved since the
beginning, when there was no death in the flowery prairies and the quagmires had not
yet emerged from the human mind.
To return then, again, to undo in the heart the knot of our sweet wounded country, the
nothingness of our lost dream of a life shared floating.
II
The gay shadows of the macaws, sheltered in the shadows of the treetops, chatter about
the hullabaloo of the shadows of the apes. The shadow of the frond dances on the
shadow of a jaguar. A violent sun is the only refuge of the salamander. Shadows of slow
clouds on shadows crouching down, shadows that haunt other shadows that are afraid.
The shadow of a man eludes the shadow of another man.
The sea of shadows of the man arriving swoops on the shadow of the man that was. The
always sleepless, the astonished one howls. It is night upon the brook of light, that flows
into the pupil of the Shadow of Man, sticking the shadow to the light.
III
What good is it for a man, his shadow on the desert? The shadow of a tree weighs more
than the shadow of a man. In the desert, the shadow of the sunstruck knows that
paradise is a true shadow.
IV
“The stones shall cry.”
Stone, talisman that chose its princes, bone of the presence and the beginning, I
recognize your sacred spirit.
Our ancestors dug in the stone of the enchantments, went into the stone house of the
spells, where the invisible life speaks.
A prehistoric clock of light, the shadow turns round the stone, which listens to the
heartbeats of man.
The lyre of Anphion raised the floating stones of Thebes. Voices that surged from the
stone go about the labyrinth of the ear.
Descended from the stone of the sun and drowned in shadows, the man no longer listens
to the stone that sings.
V
Lapidaries reveal secret transformations of the solids, new emanations from the urge of
dawn, from the heart of the stone that the lightning inhabited one day, before a shoreless
water emerged under the floating light, forging the interweaving of flowers and animals
to make a mother country of the wood.
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
From: La fiera es la jaula
From: La fiera es la jaula
Floating
IWhen we set out on the grueling march from the Apocalypse of the Shadow of Man,
among the yells of the warriors, under a panic sky that mortally wounded all of our
hopes, all our desires.
When we renounced ourselves to load our hope on the back of the brother, fleeing to the
margins of delirium where you can no longer see the cities of hell.
When we knew that the doors of Spring would open and would not open only to us, that
we would miss without fail the Shadow of Man, which we had loved since the
beginning, when there was no death in the flowery prairies and the quagmires had not
yet emerged from the human mind.
To return then, again, to undo in the heart the knot of our sweet wounded country, the
nothingness of our lost dream of a life shared floating.
II
The gay shadows of the macaws, sheltered in the shadows of the treetops, chatter about
the hullabaloo of the shadows of the apes. The shadow of the frond dances on the
shadow of a jaguar. A violent sun is the only refuge of the salamander. Shadows of slow
clouds on shadows crouching down, shadows that haunt other shadows that are afraid.
The shadow of a man eludes the shadow of another man.
The sea of shadows of the man arriving swoops on the shadow of the man that was. The
always sleepless, the astonished one howls. It is night upon the brook of light, that flows
into the pupil of the Shadow of Man, sticking the shadow to the light.
III
What good is it for a man, his shadow on the desert? The shadow of a tree weighs more
than the shadow of a man. In the desert, the shadow of the sunstruck knows that
paradise is a true shadow.
IV
“The stones shall cry.”
Stone, talisman that chose its princes, bone of the presence and the beginning, I
recognize your sacred spirit.
Our ancestors dug in the stone of the enchantments, went into the stone house of the
spells, where the invisible life speaks.
A prehistoric clock of light, the shadow turns round the stone, which listens to the
heartbeats of man.
The lyre of Anphion raised the floating stones of Thebes. Voices that surged from the
stone go about the labyrinth of the ear.
Descended from the stone of the sun and drowned in shadows, the man no longer listens
to the stone that sings.
V
Lapidaries reveal secret transformations of the solids, new emanations from the urge of
dawn, from the heart of the stone that the lightning inhabited one day, before a shoreless
water emerged under the floating light, forging the interweaving of flowers and animals
to make a mother country of the wood.
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
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