Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Julián Malatesta

THE PORT OF MACHALA

The old sailor told of
A cave by the sea
From which every night,
With fine sheets of air
And the sparkle of pins in the sand,
A woman came out,
A woman, as graceful as the fire’s flames,
With breasts like coconut pitchers
And black like tar
Who walked the streets of the port of Machala
Looking for unfaithful men
And had them make love to her on the dock,
Where the sea wets the wood.

No woman of Machala kept her husband, only
From time to time small boys turned up
Come from the sea and oblivion,
The men never came back,
They say they are in the sea like the fish
And the boys talk with them
And call them “fathers” in the market when they sell them.

Puerto de Machala

Puerto de Machala

Contó el viejo marinero,
El mar tuvo una cueva,
Todas las noches,
Con las finas láminas del aire
Y el destello de alfileres en la arena,
Salía de ella una mujer,
Una mujer esbelta como la llama de la hoguera,
De senos como cántaros de coco
Y negra como la brea,
Recorría las calles del puerto de Machala
En busca de hombres infieles
Y se hacía amar por ellos en el muelle
Donde el mar humedece la madera.

Ninguna mujer en Machala conservó el marido,
Sólo de tanto en tanto aparecían chiquillos
Venidos del mar y del olvido,
Los hombres jamás volvieron,
Dicen que están en el mar como los peces
Y los muchachos conversan con ellos
Y les dicen padres en el mercado cuando los venden.
Close

THE PORT OF MACHALA

The old sailor told of
A cave by the sea
From which every night,
With fine sheets of air
And the sparkle of pins in the sand,
A woman came out,
A woman, as graceful as the fire’s flames,
With breasts like coconut pitchers
And black like tar
Who walked the streets of the port of Machala
Looking for unfaithful men
And had them make love to her on the dock,
Where the sea wets the wood.

No woman of Machala kept her husband, only
From time to time small boys turned up
Come from the sea and oblivion,
The men never came back,
They say they are in the sea like the fish
And the boys talk with them
And call them “fathers” in the market when they sell them.

THE PORT OF MACHALA

The old sailor told of
A cave by the sea
From which every night,
With fine sheets of air
And the sparkle of pins in the sand,
A woman came out,
A woman, as graceful as the fire’s flames,
With breasts like coconut pitchers
And black like tar
Who walked the streets of the port of Machala
Looking for unfaithful men
And had them make love to her on the dock,
Where the sea wets the wood.

No woman of Machala kept her husband, only
From time to time small boys turned up
Come from the sea and oblivion,
The men never came back,
They say they are in the sea like the fish
And the boys talk with them
And call them “fathers” in the market when they sell them.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère