Poem
Piedad Bonnet
TAXI
Everything so unremarkable so apparently simplethe irate Friday noon with its buzz of a fly in Summer
and Bogotá green and vibrant
its parks suddenly gay through the taxi’s window
and in it the torpor the slow drive to wholly alien places
the song on the radio like a spider’s net growing and growing
life here could be real
but death
has a carnival mask on and laughs
and then you turn up
no you don’t come from outside from the shuddering air
you come up inside me through the esophagus to my firm throat
splendid in your Friday
under your sun that is not mine
the spider’s net tangles up its threads in my eyes and you’re gone again
and whoever looked at me would see a woman calmly looking at the view
not someone about to jump into the void
someone already jumping
while she looks at the watch without seeing the time.
© Translation: 2005, Nicolás Suescún
TAXI
TAXI
Todo tan cotidiano tan aparentemente simpleel mediodía del viernes iracundo con su rumor de mosca en el verano
y Bogotá verde vibrante
sus parques de pronto alegres tras el cristal del taxi
y allí el sopor el lento andar hacia sitios que son todos ajenos
la canción en la radio como una telaraña de luz que crece y crece
la vida aquí podría ser
pero la muerte
tiene puesta la máscara del carnaval y ríe
y entonces apareces
no no vienes de fuera del aire estremecido
subes dentro de mí de mi esófago de mi dura garganta
espléndido en tu viernes
debajo de tu sol que no es el mío
la telaraña enreda sus hilos en mis ojos y otra vez te has marchado
y quien me vea ve una mujer que mira sin afán el paisaje
no alguien que va saltar hacia el vacío
que está saltando ya
mientras mira el reloj sin ver la hora.
© 1997, Piedad Bonnett
From: Todos los amantes son guerreros
From: Todos los amantes son guerreros
Poems
Poems of Piedad Bonnet
Close
TAXI
Everything so unremarkable so apparently simplethe irate Friday noon with its buzz of a fly in Summer
and Bogotá green and vibrant
its parks suddenly gay through the taxi’s window
and in it the torpor the slow drive to wholly alien places
the song on the radio like a spider’s net growing and growing
life here could be real
but death
has a carnival mask on and laughs
and then you turn up
no you don’t come from outside from the shuddering air
you come up inside me through the esophagus to my firm throat
splendid in your Friday
under your sun that is not mine
the spider’s net tangles up its threads in my eyes and you’re gone again
and whoever looked at me would see a woman calmly looking at the view
not someone about to jump into the void
someone already jumping
while she looks at the watch without seeing the time.
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
From: Todos los amantes son guerreros
From: Todos los amantes son guerreros
TAXI
Everything so unremarkable so apparently simplethe irate Friday noon with its buzz of a fly in Summer
and Bogotá green and vibrant
its parks suddenly gay through the taxi’s window
and in it the torpor the slow drive to wholly alien places
the song on the radio like a spider’s net growing and growing
life here could be real
but death
has a carnival mask on and laughs
and then you turn up
no you don’t come from outside from the shuddering air
you come up inside me through the esophagus to my firm throat
splendid in your Friday
under your sun that is not mine
the spider’s net tangles up its threads in my eyes and you’re gone again
and whoever looked at me would see a woman calmly looking at the view
not someone about to jump into the void
someone already jumping
while she looks at the watch without seeing the time.
© 2005, Nicolás Suescún
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