Poem
Washington Cucurto
The Photocopier
The convenience store is rough as theelements.
So I turn on the photocopier. Its light
snubs out all the frigidity of the place.
At times it blinds me.
(Like the lights of cars
that turn the corner.)
I mix a Fanta with a Quilmes.
I hear no one:
I remember the first time I
kissed you, last summer, by
an overgrown field ruled by
so many crickets.
© Translation: 2012, Jordan Lee Schnee
La fotocopiadora
La fotocopiadora
El Kiosco es tan duro comola intemperie.
Por lo tanto enciendo la
fotocopiadora, su luz apaga
toda la frialdad del local.
Por momentos me ciega.
(Como las luces de los autos
que doblan la esquina.)
Mezclo una fanta y una quilmes.
A nadie escucho:
recuerdo la primera vez que te
besé, el verano pasado, cerca
de una pastizal donde reinaban
todos los grillos.
Poems
Poems of Washington Cucurto
Close
The Photocopier
The convenience store is rough as theelements.
So I turn on the photocopier. Its light
snubs out all the frigidity of the place.
At times it blinds me.
(Like the lights of cars
that turn the corner.)
I mix a Fanta with a Quilmes.
I hear no one:
I remember the first time I
kissed you, last summer, by
an overgrown field ruled by
so many crickets.
© 2012, Jordan Lee Schnee
The Photocopier
The convenience store is rough as theelements.
So I turn on the photocopier. Its light
snubs out all the frigidity of the place.
At times it blinds me.
(Like the lights of cars
that turn the corner.)
I mix a Fanta with a Quilmes.
I hear no one:
I remember the first time I
kissed you, last summer, by
an overgrown field ruled by
so many crickets.
© 2012, Jordan Lee Schnee
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