Poem
Julián Malatesta
EACH ENTRY INTO YOUR BODY
Each entry into your bodyIs a new voyage into known territory.
A landscape of ancient manners
Usually welcomes me with discreet ceremony.
Nobody admits that there are flooded rivers on the road
And lava of recent eruptions boiling amongst poppies.
There are no warning signs for the fire . . .
I must precipitously go into the flames
And weaken the fire burning on the back of the beast.
A rhythmic beating of hooves is heard suddenly,
A flight of chargers stirs the air.
The hides rubbed by aborigines’ hands
Awaken the tribe.
Then we begin the gasping hunt.
But when it’s time to return, love,
You become even sweeter than during the toil.
With your hands and my hands
We’re in the habit of gently leading the animal to the stable.
© Translation: 2006, Nicolás Suescún
Cada entrada a tu cuerpo
Cada entrada a tu cuerpo
Cada entrada a tu cuerpoEs un viaje nuevo en territorio conocido.
Un paisaje de modales antiguos
Acostumbra a recibirme con discreta ceremonia.
Nadie admite que el camino tiene los ríos desbordados
Y que hay lava de erupciones recientes hirviendo entre amapolas.
No hay señales previstas para el fuego . . .
Debo entrar precipitadamente entre las llamas
Y apaciguar el fuego que arde en el lomo de la bestia.
Un rítmico golpe de cascos se escucha de improviso,
Una fuga de corceles agita el aire.
Los cueros sobados por manos de aborigen
Despiertan a la tribu.
Entonces iniciamos la acezante cacería.
Mas cuando llega el retorno, amor,
Advienes más dulce aún que en la faena.
Con tus manos y mis manos,
Solemos conducir al animal mansamente hacia el establo.
© 2002, Julián Malatesta
From: La cárcel de Babel
Publisher: Universidad del Valle, Cali
From: La cárcel de Babel
Publisher: Universidad del Valle, Cali
Poems
Poems of Julián Malatesta
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EACH ENTRY INTO YOUR BODY
Each entry into your bodyIs a new voyage into known territory.
A landscape of ancient manners
Usually welcomes me with discreet ceremony.
Nobody admits that there are flooded rivers on the road
And lava of recent eruptions boiling amongst poppies.
There are no warning signs for the fire . . .
I must precipitously go into the flames
And weaken the fire burning on the back of the beast.
A rhythmic beating of hooves is heard suddenly,
A flight of chargers stirs the air.
The hides rubbed by aborigines’ hands
Awaken the tribe.
Then we begin the gasping hunt.
But when it’s time to return, love,
You become even sweeter than during the toil.
With your hands and my hands
We’re in the habit of gently leading the animal to the stable.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
From: La cárcel de Babel
From: La cárcel de Babel
EACH ENTRY INTO YOUR BODY
Each entry into your bodyIs a new voyage into known territory.
A landscape of ancient manners
Usually welcomes me with discreet ceremony.
Nobody admits that there are flooded rivers on the road
And lava of recent eruptions boiling amongst poppies.
There are no warning signs for the fire . . .
I must precipitously go into the flames
And weaken the fire burning on the back of the beast.
A rhythmic beating of hooves is heard suddenly,
A flight of chargers stirs the air.
The hides rubbed by aborigines’ hands
Awaken the tribe.
Then we begin the gasping hunt.
But when it’s time to return, love,
You become even sweeter than during the toil.
With your hands and my hands
We’re in the habit of gently leading the animal to the stable.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
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