Poem
Fernando Charry Lara
OBLIVION
Los días que uno tras otro son la vida.—Aurelio Arturo
The tremulous shadow already covers you.
Only oblivion exists,
Bare,
Cold uninhabited heart.
And hours are already nothing in you,
The taciturn hours that are your life
No even as occult ashes
Brought
By the transparent
Silences of a recollection.
Nothing. Twilight does not cover you
Nor does the afternoon fills you with travels,
Or the night disturb your obstinate
Nostalgia of love, when
A tacit damsel surges from the shadows.
Oh heart, uninhabited sky of dreams.
© Translation: 2006, Nicolás Suescún
Olvido
Olvido
Los días que uno tras otro son la vida.—Aurelio Arturo
La trémula sombra ya te cubre.
Solo existe el olvido,
Desnudo,
Frío corazón deshabitado.
Y ya nada son en ti las horas,
Las taciturnas horas que son tu vida.
Ni siquiera como ceniza
Oculta que trajeran
Los transparentes
Silencios de un recuerdo.
Nada. Ni el crepúsculo te envuelve,
Ni la tarde te llena de viajes,
Ni la noche conmueve tu obstinada
Nostalgia del amor, cuando
Una tácita doncella surge de la sombra.
O corazón, cielo deshabitado de los sueños.
© 1949, Fernando Charry Lara
From: Nocturno y otros sueños
Publisher: Ediciones ABC, Bogotá
From: Nocturno y otros sueños
Publisher: Ediciones ABC, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of Fernando Charry Lara
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OBLIVION
Los días que uno tras otro son la vida.—Aurelio Arturo
The tremulous shadow already covers you.
Only oblivion exists,
Bare,
Cold uninhabited heart.
And hours are already nothing in you,
The taciturn hours that are your life
No even as occult ashes
Brought
By the transparent
Silences of a recollection.
Nothing. Twilight does not cover you
Nor does the afternoon fills you with travels,
Or the night disturb your obstinate
Nostalgia of love, when
A tacit damsel surges from the shadows.
Oh heart, uninhabited sky of dreams.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
From: Nocturno y otros sueños
From: Nocturno y otros sueños
OBLIVION
Los días que uno tras otro son la vida.—Aurelio Arturo
The tremulous shadow already covers you.
Only oblivion exists,
Bare,
Cold uninhabited heart.
And hours are already nothing in you,
The taciturn hours that are your life
No even as occult ashes
Brought
By the transparent
Silences of a recollection.
Nothing. Twilight does not cover you
Nor does the afternoon fills you with travels,
Or the night disturb your obstinate
Nostalgia of love, when
A tacit damsel surges from the shadows.
Oh heart, uninhabited sky of dreams.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
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