Poem
Carlos López Degregori
BULLET
I have a bullet made of icy silver to give you.I prepared it last night with dirty, sweet, infallible blood. I prayed with it for hours. I attended it with candles and the most secret invocations.
First off, I blinded it, because a bullet must never see the ominous air or the body it will encounter. After, I deafened it, so that it wouldn’t hear the cries or threats or music of the flesh and bones while shattering.
I only left it lips so it could whistle.
Understand what I say:
whistles are bullets’ words: they are their ruthless final kisses piercing the smoothness of the night; their wonder and their plea, their breath.
© Translation: 2010, Robin Myers
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2010
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2010
KOGEL
Ik heb deze kogel van ijzig zilver voor jou.Gisteravond heb ik hem gemaakt met smerig, onfeilbaar, zoet bloed. Ik heb uren samen met hem gebeden. Ik zat bij hem met kaarsen en diep geheime schietgebedjes.
Eerst heb ik hem verblind, omdat een kogel de dreigende lucht of het lichaam dat hij zal raken nooit mag zien. Vervolgens maakte ik hem doof, dan kan hij het geschreeuw, de dreigementen, de muziek van het vlees en de brekende botten niet horen.
Ik gunde hem alleen zijn lippen waarmee hij zou kunnen fluiten.
Begrijp me goed:
het gefluit zijn de woorden van kogels: het zijn hun laatste uitzinnige kussen die zich in de gladde nacht boren: hun verbazing, hun smeekbede, hun ademhaling.
© Vertaling: 2010, Mariolein Sabarte Belacortu
BALA
Tengo esta bala de helada plata para ti.Anoche la preparé con sucia, infalible, dulce sangre. Recé horas con ella. La acompañé con velas y las más secretas jaculatorias.
Primero la cegué porque una bala nunca debe ver el aire ominoso ni el cuerpo que encontrará. Después la ensordecí para que no escuche los gritos ni las amenazas ni la música de la carne y los huesos partiéndose.
Sólo le dejé los labios para que pudiera silbar.
Entiéndeme:
los silbidos son las palabras de las balas: son sus besos últimos y desaforados adentrándose en la lisura de la noche: su extrañeza, su ruego, su respiración.
© 2010, Carlos López Degregori
Poems
Poems of Carlos López Degregori
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BULLET
I have a bullet made of icy silver to give you.I prepared it last night with dirty, sweet, infallible blood. I prayed with it for hours. I attended it with candles and the most secret invocations.
First off, I blinded it, because a bullet must never see the ominous air or the body it will encounter. After, I deafened it, so that it wouldn’t hear the cries or threats or music of the flesh and bones while shattering.
I only left it lips so it could whistle.
Understand what I say:
whistles are bullets’ words: they are their ruthless final kisses piercing the smoothness of the night; their wonder and their plea, their breath.
© 2010, Robin Myers
Publisher: 2010, First published on PIW,
Publisher: 2010, First published on PIW,
BULLET
I have a bullet made of icy silver to give you.I prepared it last night with dirty, sweet, infallible blood. I prayed with it for hours. I attended it with candles and the most secret invocations.
First off, I blinded it, because a bullet must never see the ominous air or the body it will encounter. After, I deafened it, so that it wouldn’t hear the cries or threats or music of the flesh and bones while shattering.
I only left it lips so it could whistle.
Understand what I say:
whistles are bullets’ words: they are their ruthless final kisses piercing the smoothness of the night; their wonder and their plea, their breath.
© 2010, Robin Myers
Publisher: 2010, First published on PIW,
Publisher: 2010, First published on PIW,
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