Poem
José Zuleta Ortiz
SANTA BARBARA MOTEL
The doorkeepershows the place to the lovers,
waits for the car to go in,
closes the gate . . .
tired
late at night
she dozes among moans,
the music of pleasure,
whimpers, chokings . . .
She dreams: a young man sings to her,
she dreams about his joy, she breathes in his laughter,
her waters burn
a flight goes over her,
the choir of happy wails
wakes her,
she no longer knows if that sound of bliss is hers.
© Translation: 2009, Nicolás Suescún
MOTEL SANTA BÁRBARA
MOTEL SANTA BÁRBARA
La porteraindica el lugar a los amantes,
espera a que el auto entre,
cierra la puerta . . .
cansada
en el fondo de la noche
dormita entre gemidos,
música de placeres,
quejumbres, ahogamientos . . .
sueña: Un muchacho le canta,
sueña su alegría y su risa respirándola,
sus aguas se incendian
un vuelo la recorre
el coro de felices lamentos
la despierta,
no sabe ya, si será de ella el sonido de esa dicha.
© 2009, José Zuleta Ortiz
From: Las manos de la noche
Publisher: Universidad Nacional de Colombia, Colección Viernes de Poesía, N° 65, Bogotá
From: Las manos de la noche
Publisher: Universidad Nacional de Colombia, Colección Viernes de Poesía, N° 65, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of José Zuleta Ortiz
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SANTA BARBARA MOTEL
The doorkeepershows the place to the lovers,
waits for the car to go in,
closes the gate . . .
tired
late at night
she dozes among moans,
the music of pleasure,
whimpers, chokings . . .
She dreams: a young man sings to her,
she dreams about his joy, she breathes in his laughter,
her waters burn
a flight goes over her,
the choir of happy wails
wakes her,
she no longer knows if that sound of bliss is hers.
© 2009, Nicolás Suescún
From: Las manos de la noche
From: Las manos de la noche
SANTA BARBARA MOTEL
The doorkeepershows the place to the lovers,
waits for the car to go in,
closes the gate . . .
tired
late at night
she dozes among moans,
the music of pleasure,
whimpers, chokings . . .
She dreams: a young man sings to her,
she dreams about his joy, she breathes in his laughter,
her waters burn
a flight goes over her,
the choir of happy wails
wakes her,
she no longer knows if that sound of bliss is hers.
© 2009, Nicolás Suescún
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