Poem
Nicolás Suescún
CHILDHOOD
The sea, immense and blue,deep tomb of pirates and of treasures,
was there far away,
behind the mountains.
It was an absence.
The rivers, too, were absent ones.
Their waters, under the earth,
flowed, thick and dark,
carrying waste and trash.
And beauty also hid.
It rarely went out on the street.
Sometimes she peeked in,
with the sun in the courtyard,
or through the eyes of the cat on the roof.
And voyages had to be imaginary,
poor, lukewarm daydreams
in the dark and cold corners
where all the roads began.
So every voyage had to be a project,
and every project
a secret, unspeakable voyage.
And the empty plots where I played football
were slowly filled with houses.
You had to walk very far to find a place
where there would be no strangers.
The walk home from school:
that simulacrum of the Odyssey.
Infancia
Infancia
El mar inmenso, azul,profunda tumba de piratas y tesoros,
estaba allá muy lejos,
detrás de las montañas.
Era una ausencia.
Los ríos, también, eran grandes ausentes.
Sus aguas, bajo la tierra,
corrían espesas y oscuras,
arrastrando desperdicios.
Y la belleza también se escondía.
Rara vez salía a la calle.
A veces se asomaba con el sol en el patio
o en los ojos de gato.
Y los viajes tenían que ser imaginarios,
pobres ensueños tibios en los fríos rincones
donde empezaban los caminos.
Así que todo viaje era un proyecto,
todo proyecto
un viaje secreto, inconfesable.
Y los potreros donde jugaba fútbol
se iban llenando de casas.
Había que caminar mucho
para llegar donde no hubiera extraños.
El camino de la escuela a la casa:
ese simulacro de la Odisea.
Poems
Poems of Nicolás Suescún
Close
CHILDHOOD
The sea, immense and blue,deep tomb of pirates and of treasures,
was there far away,
behind the mountains.
It was an absence.
The rivers, too, were absent ones.
Their waters, under the earth,
flowed, thick and dark,
carrying waste and trash.
And beauty also hid.
It rarely went out on the street.
Sometimes she peeked in,
with the sun in the courtyard,
or through the eyes of the cat on the roof.
And voyages had to be imaginary,
poor, lukewarm daydreams
in the dark and cold corners
where all the roads began.
So every voyage had to be a project,
and every project
a secret, unspeakable voyage.
And the empty plots where I played football
were slowly filled with houses.
You had to walk very far to find a place
where there would be no strangers.
The walk home from school:
that simulacrum of the Odyssey.
CHILDHOOD
The sea, immense and blue,deep tomb of pirates and of treasures,
was there far away,
behind the mountains.
It was an absence.
The rivers, too, were absent ones.
Their waters, under the earth,
flowed, thick and dark,
carrying waste and trash.
And beauty also hid.
It rarely went out on the street.
Sometimes she peeked in,
with the sun in the courtyard,
or through the eyes of the cat on the roof.
And voyages had to be imaginary,
poor, lukewarm daydreams
in the dark and cold corners
where all the roads began.
So every voyage had to be a project,
and every project
a secret, unspeakable voyage.
And the empty plots where I played football
were slowly filled with houses.
You had to walk very far to find a place
where there would be no strangers.
The walk home from school:
that simulacrum of the Odyssey.
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