Poem
Juan Manuel Roca
Harangue of one that didn’t go to war
I never saw the sweet lady with assyrian eyesagainst the railings of a bridge
threading a needle
as if going to patch a river.
Nor lonely women waiting in the villages
for the war to end as if it were another station.
I never went to war, nor do I need to
since as a boy
I always asked how could I go to war
And a nurse, beautiful as an albatross,
A nurse that ran through large corridors
screamed with a bird’s caw without looking at me:
You’re already in it, boy, you’re already in it.
I’ve never gone to the country of the hangars,
I’ve never been a standard bearer, hussar, mujik of some steppe.
Never did I travel in a globe across bristly countries
Populated by troops and beer.
I’ve never written, like Ungaretti, love letters in the trenches
I haven’t seen the sun of death burning in Japan
Nor have I seen high-necked men
Dealing the earth in a card game .
I never went to war, not do I need to,
In order to see the soldiery washing the white standards
and later hearing them talk about peace
at the foot of the statues’ legion.
© Translation: 2003, Raúl Jaime Gaviria
Arenga de uno que no fue a la guerra
Arenga de uno que no fue a la guerra
Nunca vi en las barandas de un puenteA la dulce mujer con ojos de asiria
Enhebrando una aguja
Como si fuera a remendar el río.
Ni mujeres solas esperando en las aldeas
A que pase la guerra como si fuera otra estación.
Nunca fui a la guerra, ni falta que me hace,
Porque de niño
Siempre pregunté cómo ir a la guerra
Y una enfermera bella como un albatros,
Una enfermera que corría por largos pasillos
Gritó con graznido de ave sin mirarme:
Ya estás en ella, muchacho, estás en ella.
Nunca he ido al país de los hangares,
Nunca he sido abanderado, húsar, mujik de alguna estepa.
Nunca viajé en globo por erizados países
Poblados de tropa y de cerveza.
No he escrito como Ungaretti cartas de amor en las trincheras.
No he visto el sol de la muerte ardiendo en el Japón
Ni he visto hombres de largo cuello
Repartiéndose la tierra en un juego de barajas.
Nunca fui a la guerra, ni falta que me hace,
Para ver la soldadesca lavando los blancos estandartes,
Y luego oírlos hablar de la paz
Al pie de la legión de las estatuas.
© 1991, Juan Manuel Roca
From: Luna de Ciegos
Publisher: University of Antioquia, Medellín
From: Luna de Ciegos
Publisher: University of Antioquia, Medellín
Poems
Poems of Juan Manuel Roca
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Harangue of one that didn’t go to war
I never saw the sweet lady with assyrian eyesagainst the railings of a bridge
threading a needle
as if going to patch a river.
Nor lonely women waiting in the villages
for the war to end as if it were another station.
I never went to war, nor do I need to
since as a boy
I always asked how could I go to war
And a nurse, beautiful as an albatross,
A nurse that ran through large corridors
screamed with a bird’s caw without looking at me:
You’re already in it, boy, you’re already in it.
I’ve never gone to the country of the hangars,
I’ve never been a standard bearer, hussar, mujik of some steppe.
Never did I travel in a globe across bristly countries
Populated by troops and beer.
I’ve never written, like Ungaretti, love letters in the trenches
I haven’t seen the sun of death burning in Japan
Nor have I seen high-necked men
Dealing the earth in a card game .
I never went to war, not do I need to,
In order to see the soldiery washing the white standards
and later hearing them talk about peace
at the foot of the statues’ legion.
© 2003, Raúl Jaime Gaviria
From: Luna de Ciegos
From: Luna de Ciegos
Harangue of one that didn’t go to war
I never saw the sweet lady with assyrian eyesagainst the railings of a bridge
threading a needle
as if going to patch a river.
Nor lonely women waiting in the villages
for the war to end as if it were another station.
I never went to war, nor do I need to
since as a boy
I always asked how could I go to war
And a nurse, beautiful as an albatross,
A nurse that ran through large corridors
screamed with a bird’s caw without looking at me:
You’re already in it, boy, you’re already in it.
I’ve never gone to the country of the hangars,
I’ve never been a standard bearer, hussar, mujik of some steppe.
Never did I travel in a globe across bristly countries
Populated by troops and beer.
I’ve never written, like Ungaretti, love letters in the trenches
I haven’t seen the sun of death burning in Japan
Nor have I seen high-necked men
Dealing the earth in a card game .
I never went to war, not do I need to,
In order to see the soldiery washing the white standards
and later hearing them talk about peace
at the foot of the statues’ legion.
© 2003, Raúl Jaime Gaviria
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