Poem
María Mercedes Carranza
Visiting card
The world is that which I look at:the table that gathers upon it
banal things such as the tablecloth and the glasses,
the milky back of the mountains at dawn,
a chair that receives the slanted afternoon light,
the artichoke leaves lying on a plate.
Life is that which dies:
a hand raised that is already dust and roots,
the word avenging itself for lack of love and failure,
the smell of a soap rubbed on when ten years old,
this wounded earth with bones and shipwrecked persons.
Heaven and its hell, hatred and love,
happiness and unhappiness, the color of light,
are the missed encounter of all these things
dictated by my dark and uncertain heart.
© Translation: 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Tarjeta de visita
Tarjeta de visita
El mundo es esto que miro:la mesa que reúne sobre ella
cosas banales como el mantel y los vasos,
el lomo lechoso de los cerros al amanecer,
una luz que recibe la luz oblicua de la tarde,
la alcachofa que yace deshojada en un plato.
La vida es esto que muere:
una mano alzándose que ya es polvo y raíces,
la palabra que se venga del desamor y la derrota,
el olor de un jabón frotado a los 10 años,
esta tierra herida que contiene huesos y naúfragos.
El cielo y su infierno, odio y amor,
la dicha y la desdicha, el color de la luz,
son el desencuentro de todas esas cosas
que dicta mi oscuro e incierto corazón.
From: Hola, soledad
Publisher: Editorial Oveja Negra, Bogotá
Publisher: Editorial Oveja Negra, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of María Mercedes Carranza
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Visiting card
The world is that which I look at:the table that gathers upon it
banal things such as the tablecloth and the glasses,
the milky back of the mountains at dawn,
a chair that receives the slanted afternoon light,
the artichoke leaves lying on a plate.
Life is that which dies:
a hand raised that is already dust and roots,
the word avenging itself for lack of love and failure,
the smell of a soap rubbed on when ten years old,
this wounded earth with bones and shipwrecked persons.
Heaven and its hell, hatred and love,
happiness and unhappiness, the color of light,
are the missed encounter of all these things
dictated by my dark and uncertain heart.
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
From: Hola, soledad
From: Hola, soledad
Visiting card
The world is that which I look at:the table that gathers upon it
banal things such as the tablecloth and the glasses,
the milky back of the mountains at dawn,
a chair that receives the slanted afternoon light,
the artichoke leaves lying on a plate.
Life is that which dies:
a hand raised that is already dust and roots,
the word avenging itself for lack of love and failure,
the smell of a soap rubbed on when ten years old,
this wounded earth with bones and shipwrecked persons.
Heaven and its hell, hatred and love,
happiness and unhappiness, the color of light,
are the missed encounter of all these things
dictated by my dark and uncertain heart.
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
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