Poem
Alí Calderón
Constantinople
Edirnekapi4th Century a Byzantine church
Outside the walls of Theodosius
are only dust ruined foundations
My elderly grandfather would always go
to the Lady of Our Carmen at eleven
Did he receive communion? Only hear mass?
The light of the stained glass windows falls on the frescoes:
it’s Jesus
multiplying the bread
there are some fish
also empty baskets
Someone next to me says “God”
but in the narthex only the echo is heard
beneath the indifference
of a Christ Pantocrator
Time has worn down the glass
miniature mosaics
Where the Baptist stood a layer
of sand and mortar shows through
The wall was gold and lapis lazuli
now the tar
hidden fifteen centuries ago
behind images of apostles and saints
is lord and master of the parecclesion.
Plaster and limestone outline dark
Greek symbols: come to me you heavy laden
read the faint
almost invisible inscriptions
The cracks
The vaults above the healing
of the paralytic flake off
The brick the stone
That’s when these closing lines come to mind:
My father answered – “that’s just décor;
the sculpture is you” – and he pointed to my chest.
Constantinopel
EdirnekapıVierde eeuw Byzantijnse kerk
Buiten de muren van Theodosius
enkel stof verweerde fundamenten
Mijn oude grootvader ging
steevast rond elven naar Nuestra Señora del Carmen
Ter communie? Alleen naar de mis?
Het glas-in-lood-licht valt op de fresco’s:
het is Jezus
hij vermenigvuldigt de broden
er liggen wat vissen
en ook lege manden
Iemand naast me zegt “God”
maar in de narthex klinkt enkel de echo
onder de onverschillige blik
van een pantocrator
Glas aangevreten door de tijd
minuscule mozaïeken
Waar de Doper stond verscheen
een laag van zand en specie
De muur was goud en lapis lazuli
nu is het teer
na vijftien eeuwen
achter heiligen, apostelen
heer en meester van het parekklesion.
Gips en kalk omranden donkere
Griekse tekens: komt tot mij die beladen zijt
is te lezen in vage
haast onzichtbare inscripties
De barsten
Koepels bladderen af
boven de genezing van de lamme
De bakstenen de kei
Dan denk ik aan de slotregels:
Mijn vader antwoordde: “dat is slechts decor;
de sculptuur ben jij” en hij wees naar mijn borst.
Constantinopla
EdirnekapiSiglo IV una iglesia bizantina
Afuera las murallas de Teodosio
son sólo polvo ruinosos cimientos
Iba mi abuelo anciano
siempre a Nuestra Señora del Carmen a las once
¿Comulgaba? ¿Oía sólo misa?
La luz de los vitrales cae sobre los frescos:
es Jesús
multiplica los panes
hay algunos pescados
también cestas vacías
Alguien a mi costado dice “Dios”
pero en el nártex nada suena sino el eco
bajo la indiferencia
de un Cristo Pantocrátor
El tiempo ha desgastado los cristales
diminutos mosaicos
Donde estuvo el Bautista se desvela
una capa de arena y argamasa
El muro fue dorado y lapislázuli
ahora el alquitrán
oculto quince siglos
tras figuras de apóstoles y santos
es el amo y señor del paraclesion.
Bordean yeso y cal oscuros signos
griegos: venid a mí los agobiados
dicen las inscripciones
difusas invisibles casi
Las cuarteaduras
Se descascaran bóvedas
frente a la sanación del paralítico
Los ladrillos la piedra
Es entonces que pienso en los versos finales:
Mi padre contestó –“es sólo el decorado;
la escultura eres tú” – y me señaló el pecho.
From: Las correspondencias
Publisher: Visor, Madrid
Publisher: Visor, Madrid
Poems
Poems of Alí Calderón
Close
Constantinople
Edirnekapi4th Century a Byzantine church
Outside the walls of Theodosius
are only dust ruined foundations
My elderly grandfather would always go
to the Lady of Our Carmen at eleven
Did he receive communion? Only hear mass?
The light of the stained glass windows falls on the frescoes:
it’s Jesus
multiplying the bread
there are some fish
also empty baskets
Someone next to me says “God”
but in the narthex only the echo is heard
beneath the indifference
of a Christ Pantocrator
Time has worn down the glass
miniature mosaics
Where the Baptist stood a layer
of sand and mortar shows through
The wall was gold and lapis lazuli
now the tar
hidden fifteen centuries ago
behind images of apostles and saints
is lord and master of the parecclesion.
Plaster and limestone outline dark
Greek symbols: come to me you heavy laden
read the faint
almost invisible inscriptions
The cracks
The vaults above the healing
of the paralytic flake off
The brick the stone
That’s when these closing lines come to mind:
My father answered – “that’s just décor;
the sculpture is you” – and he pointed to my chest.
From: Las correspondencias
Constantinople
Edirnekapi4th Century a Byzantine church
Outside the walls of Theodosius
are only dust ruined foundations
My elderly grandfather would always go
to the Lady of Our Carmen at eleven
Did he receive communion? Only hear mass?
The light of the stained glass windows falls on the frescoes:
it’s Jesus
multiplying the bread
there are some fish
also empty baskets
Someone next to me says “God”
but in the narthex only the echo is heard
beneath the indifference
of a Christ Pantocrator
Time has worn down the glass
miniature mosaics
Where the Baptist stood a layer
of sand and mortar shows through
The wall was gold and lapis lazuli
now the tar
hidden fifteen centuries ago
behind images of apostles and saints
is lord and master of the parecclesion.
Plaster and limestone outline dark
Greek symbols: come to me you heavy laden
read the faint
almost invisible inscriptions
The cracks
The vaults above the healing
of the paralytic flake off
The brick the stone
That’s when these closing lines come to mind:
My father answered – “that’s just décor;
the sculpture is you” – and he pointed to my chest.
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