Poem
Luis Vidales
NOCTURNE NUMBER EIGHT
To carry a river deep in oneself singing like a childand the sea of time, in oneself, roaring to the stars
night
and day
And to go into the dream alone, really alone,
accompanied only by what you were in those days
with no help in bed
from the movies of the pillow
or the bedspread under which the fingers close
the opium poppy of a giant country:
the hidden country in which I sleep
so that later it will get bigger
and its multitude will keep me company.
© Translation: 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Nocturno número ocho
Nocturno número ocho
Llevar un río en uno cantando como un niñoy el mar del tiempo, en uno, mugiendo a las estrellas
noche
y día
Y entrar al sueño solo, lo que se dice solo,
tan solo acompañado por el ser de otros días
sin que valga en el lecho
el cine de la almohada
ni el cobertor en que los dedos cierran
la adormidera de un país gigante:
el país escondido en que me duermo
para que después se agrande
y su gran muchedumbre me haga compañía.
© 1979, Luis Vidales
From: Antología poética
Publisher: Universidad de Antioquia, Medellín
From: Antología poética
Publisher: Universidad de Antioquia, Medellín
Poems
Poems of Luis Vidales
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NOCTURNE NUMBER EIGHT
To carry a river deep in oneself singing like a childand the sea of time, in oneself, roaring to the stars
night
and day
And to go into the dream alone, really alone,
accompanied only by what you were in those days
with no help in bed
from the movies of the pillow
or the bedspread under which the fingers close
the opium poppy of a giant country:
the hidden country in which I sleep
so that later it will get bigger
and its multitude will keep me company.
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
From: Antología poética
From: Antología poética
NOCTURNE NUMBER EIGHT
To carry a river deep in oneself singing like a childand the sea of time, in oneself, roaring to the stars
night
and day
And to go into the dream alone, really alone,
accompanied only by what you were in those days
with no help in bed
from the movies of the pillow
or the bedspread under which the fingers close
the opium poppy of a giant country:
the hidden country in which I sleep
so that later it will get bigger
and its multitude will keep me company.
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
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