Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

George Mario Angel Quintero

Sweatily accompanied

Sweatily accompanied
By three musicians dressed as redskins,
I scrape the darkness visible with my fingernail,
Let that, which is dark in me, shine to its bottom.
From my nature upon itself,
Two toothless workers, dying of laughter,
Hurl the fresh bones
Of a large animal into the density
Between the open back doors of a truck,
Steel wings, obstacles for taxis.
In cerebral flames, head-first
Dumped into a bottomless hole,
In order to pile up my efforts.
In the imbalance, justice justifies,
It slides on the fat and the blood,
Tumbling me down with its cackling,
Me, who hung from a single cartilage.

Sweatily accompanied

Acompañado sudorosamente
Por tres músicos vestidos de Piel Roja,
Raspo la oscuridad visible con una uña,
Que lo en mi oscuro ilumine al fondo.
Desde mi naturaleza sobre ella misma,
Dos muecos, muertos de la risa,
Lanzan los huesos frescos
De un animal grande a la densidad
Entre las dos puertas abiertas de una jaula,
Alas de acero estorbando taxis.
En llamas cerebrales, de cabezas
Arrojado a un hueco sin fondo,
Para amontonar mis esfuerzos.
En el desequilibrio, justicia justifica,
Se desliza sobre la grasa y la sangre,
Tumbándome a carcajadas,
Yo, que colgaba de sólo un cartílago.
Close

Sweatily accompanied

Sweatily accompanied
By three musicians dressed as redskins,
I scrape the darkness visible with my fingernail,
Let that, which is dark in me, shine to its bottom.
From my nature upon itself,
Two toothless workers, dying of laughter,
Hurl the fresh bones
Of a large animal into the density
Between the open back doors of a truck,
Steel wings, obstacles for taxis.
In cerebral flames, head-first
Dumped into a bottomless hole,
In order to pile up my efforts.
In the imbalance, justice justifies,
It slides on the fat and the blood,
Tumbling me down with its cackling,
Me, who hung from a single cartilage.

Sweatily accompanied

Sweatily accompanied
By three musicians dressed as redskins,
I scrape the darkness visible with my fingernail,
Let that, which is dark in me, shine to its bottom.
From my nature upon itself,
Two toothless workers, dying of laughter,
Hurl the fresh bones
Of a large animal into the density
Between the open back doors of a truck,
Steel wings, obstacles for taxis.
In cerebral flames, head-first
Dumped into a bottomless hole,
In order to pile up my efforts.
In the imbalance, justice justifies,
It slides on the fat and the blood,
Tumbling me down with its cackling,
Me, who hung from a single cartilage.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère