Poem
Luisa Futoransky
THE 613 OF YOUR PASSAGE
Here, the intelligent hearts, the ordinary hearts, the vulgar, stingy, dull-witted,hybrid, foul, rusty ones.
Pea-sized hearts, hearts made of duck's liver.
Those that're snakes in the grass, that like to take a siesta, watch you out of the
corner of their eye and wake up singing like lunatics.
Here, too, the hearts that won't ever see you again, those that saw you but you
didn't see them, spying, nose pressed up against the window.
The constipated heart, the offal heart, the one of pomp and circumstance, the
heart gone with the wind.
The puro cuore, glib and nothing more than yada yada yada.
The ones that're garden-variety, dirt cheap, made of plywood.
Common and carney hearts, the heart that wants to love but cannot, the
compulsive liar and forked heart.
There are hearts soused in vinegar, port and champagne, hearts that bring you bad omens
that are split in two by lightning
the where-are-you heart and the "why did you leave poor Lou alone" one.
wrinkled and starched hearts
hearts that are better lost than found
hearts cut on the cross at acute angles.
gold, silver, platinum, many emerald hearts.
Hearts that send you their invoice,
hearts that’re a fountain of youth
and the fingers of god at dusk in Galilee.
Cinderella, forget-me-not hearts
Queen of hearts, play your hunch.
© Translation: 2019, Philippa Page
Based on a Talmudic tradition, there are 613 mitzvot (or commandments) specified in the Torah; the term is sometimes used to denote a moral or simply kind act.
Los 613 de tu tránsito
Los 613 de tu tránsito
Están los corazones inteligentes, los corazones ordinarios, los groseros, mezquinos,de pocas luces, híbridos, hediondos, con sarro.
Los corazones arvejitas, los corazones hígado de pato.
Los que se hacen la mosquita muerta, duermen la siesta, te observan de reojo y
despiertan cantando como locos.
Están los corazones que no te verán nunca jamás, los que te vieron y no viste,
espiando, la ñata contra el vidrio.
El corazón estreñido, el corazón bofe, de pompa y circunstancia, corazón de lo que
el viento se llevó.
Los puro cuore, purapinta y nada más que blablablá.
Los flor de ceibo, de morondanga y de madera terciada.
Los corazones mersa y murga, el corazón de querer y no poder,
corazón mitómano y bífido.
Hay corazones en remojo de vinagre, oporto y en champagne, corazones que te
traen yeta y que los parta un rayo,
corazón dónde estás y "por qué dejaste sola a la pobre Lu"
corazones arrugados y almidonados
corazones que más vale perderlos que encontrarlos
corazones al bies y en falsa escuadra.
Corazones oro, plata, platino y mucha esmeralda.
Corazones que te pasan factura,
corazones fuente de Juvencia
y gloria de Dios al anochecer en Galilea.
Corazones cenicientos, nomeolvides
Dama de corazones, corazonadas aceptar.
© 2005, Luisa Futoransky
From: Prender de gajo
Publisher: Calambur, Madrid
From: Prender de gajo
Publisher: Calambur, Madrid
Poems
Poems of Luisa Futoransky
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THE 613 OF YOUR PASSAGE
Here, the intelligent hearts, the ordinary hearts, the vulgar, stingy, dull-witted,hybrid, foul, rusty ones.
Pea-sized hearts, hearts made of duck's liver.
Those that're snakes in the grass, that like to take a siesta, watch you out of the
corner of their eye and wake up singing like lunatics.
Here, too, the hearts that won't ever see you again, those that saw you but you
didn't see them, spying, nose pressed up against the window.
The constipated heart, the offal heart, the one of pomp and circumstance, the
heart gone with the wind.
The puro cuore, glib and nothing more than yada yada yada.
The ones that're garden-variety, dirt cheap, made of plywood.
Common and carney hearts, the heart that wants to love but cannot, the
compulsive liar and forked heart.
There are hearts soused in vinegar, port and champagne, hearts that bring you bad omens
that are split in two by lightning
the where-are-you heart and the "why did you leave poor Lou alone" one.
wrinkled and starched hearts
hearts that are better lost than found
hearts cut on the cross at acute angles.
gold, silver, platinum, many emerald hearts.
Hearts that send you their invoice,
hearts that’re a fountain of youth
and the fingers of god at dusk in Galilee.
Cinderella, forget-me-not hearts
Queen of hearts, play your hunch.
© 2019, Philippa Page
From: Prender de gajo
From: Prender de gajo
THE 613 OF YOUR PASSAGE
Here, the intelligent hearts, the ordinary hearts, the vulgar, stingy, dull-witted,hybrid, foul, rusty ones.
Pea-sized hearts, hearts made of duck's liver.
Those that're snakes in the grass, that like to take a siesta, watch you out of the
corner of their eye and wake up singing like lunatics.
Here, too, the hearts that won't ever see you again, those that saw you but you
didn't see them, spying, nose pressed up against the window.
The constipated heart, the offal heart, the one of pomp and circumstance, the
heart gone with the wind.
The puro cuore, glib and nothing more than yada yada yada.
The ones that're garden-variety, dirt cheap, made of plywood.
Common and carney hearts, the heart that wants to love but cannot, the
compulsive liar and forked heart.
There are hearts soused in vinegar, port and champagne, hearts that bring you bad omens
that are split in two by lightning
the where-are-you heart and the "why did you leave poor Lou alone" one.
wrinkled and starched hearts
hearts that are better lost than found
hearts cut on the cross at acute angles.
gold, silver, platinum, many emerald hearts.
Hearts that send you their invoice,
hearts that’re a fountain of youth
and the fingers of god at dusk in Galilee.
Cinderella, forget-me-not hearts
Queen of hearts, play your hunch.
© 2019, Philippa Page
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