Poem
José Manuel Arango
I
men rush out on the streetsto celebrate the coming of night
the sound of a flute goes thinly into the ear
and the plazas are again places of festivity
where girls with bare backs that meet
the eyes of adolescent tellers
repeat the movements of an ancient
sacred dance
and in the clamor
of the fruit vendors
forgotten gods speak
II
the repeated shipwreck of the parks
at nightfall
the hour in which closed
by the graze of a somber
wing
the heart descends to cold abodes
© Translation: 2005, Nicolás Suescún
I
I
los hombres se echan a las callespara celebrar la llegada de la noche
un son de flauta entra delgado en el oído
y otra vez son las plazas lugares de fiesta
donde las niñas que cruzan con la espalda desnuda
las miradas de los cajeros adolescentes
repiten los movimientos de un antiguo baile
sagrado
y en la algarabía
de los vendedores de fruta
olvidados dioses hablan
II
repetido naufragio de los parques
en el anochecer
la hora en que cerrado
por el roce de un ala
sombría
el corazón desciende a frías moradas
© 1973, José Manuel Arango
From: Este lugar de la noche
Publisher: Edited by the author, Medellín
From: Este lugar de la noche
Publisher: Edited by the author, Medellín
Poems
Poems of José Manuel Arango
Close
I
men rush out on the streetsto celebrate the coming of night
the sound of a flute goes thinly into the ear
and the plazas are again places of festivity
where girls with bare backs that meet
the eyes of adolescent tellers
repeat the movements of an ancient
sacred dance
and in the clamor
of the fruit vendors
forgotten gods speak
II
the repeated shipwreck of the parks
at nightfall
the hour in which closed
by the graze of a somber
wing
the heart descends to cold abodes
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
From: Este lugar de la noche
From: Este lugar de la noche
I
men rush out on the streetsto celebrate the coming of night
the sound of a flute goes thinly into the ear
and the plazas are again places of festivity
where girls with bare backs that meet
the eyes of adolescent tellers
repeat the movements of an ancient
sacred dance
and in the clamor
of the fruit vendors
forgotten gods speak
II
the repeated shipwreck of the parks
at nightfall
the hour in which closed
by the graze of a somber
wing
the heart descends to cold abodes
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
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