Poem
Raúl Henao
SELF PORTRAIT
Oh, my face is as stupid as undergrowthI prefer the chirping of crickets to
the song of birds
Eternity to time
Wardrobes fall to pieces as I pass
Each night a man that died laughing
Sits at my table
The phantom of liberty visits me at dawn
I knock at the windows of my dreams
Absent hands seem pale under the pillow
I read the sunday papers (no comment)
What happiness! I shall die being uncorked
Like a bottle of champagne
Translated by Philip West
© Translation: 1998, Raúl Henao
From: La vida a la Carta
From: La vida a la Carta
AUTORRETRATO
AUTORRETRATO
Ah, mi rostro estúpido como la malezaPrefiero el chirrido del grillo al canto
de los pájaros
la eternidad al tiempo.
Los armarios se desarman a mi paso
Un muerto de risa se sienta cada noche
a mi mesa.
El fantasma de la libertad me visita al amanecer
golpea con sus nudillos los cristales de mi sueño.
Las manos de la ausente tan pálidas bajo la almohada.
Leo los periódicos del domingo (esto sin comentarios)
¡Qué alegre! moriré descorchado como
una botella de champaña.
© 1998, Raúl Henao
From: La vida a la Carta
Publisher: Ediciones Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín,
From: La vida a la Carta
Publisher: Ediciones Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín,
Poems
Poems of Raúl Henao
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SELF PORTRAIT
Oh, my face is as stupid as undergrowthI prefer the chirping of crickets to
the song of birds
Eternity to time
Wardrobes fall to pieces as I pass
Each night a man that died laughing
Sits at my table
The phantom of liberty visits me at dawn
I knock at the windows of my dreams
Absent hands seem pale under the pillow
I read the sunday papers (no comment)
What happiness! I shall die being uncorked
Like a bottle of champagne
Translated by Philip West
© 1998, Raúl Henao
From: La vida a la Carta
From: La vida a la Carta
SELF PORTRAIT
Oh, my face is as stupid as undergrowthI prefer the chirping of crickets to
the song of birds
Eternity to time
Wardrobes fall to pieces as I pass
Each night a man that died laughing
Sits at my table
The phantom of liberty visits me at dawn
I knock at the windows of my dreams
Absent hands seem pale under the pillow
I read the sunday papers (no comment)
What happiness! I shall die being uncorked
Like a bottle of champagne
Translated by Philip West
© 1998, Raúl Henao
From: La vida a la Carta
From: La vida a la Carta
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