Poem
María Clemencia Sánchez
Limoges
Here are all the heavensI have never visited
the nightmare of trains at night
that don’t move
like the laughter of the pointsman
threading his days.
Ancient ruins and seas from elsewhere
flow inside like a betrayal
of what I look for.
The kiss I leave on Salome’s lips
sculptures the mouth I’m losing
and since Heraclitus I mistake
the course of my icy itinerary.
I will lose the stars again
when walking down
the inhabited streets of Austerlitz at night
the marble sky of the Saint Pierre de Corps station
where in a fraction of a second
I saw all my life fall to pieces like an Autumn.
I passed you on the Avenue Diderot,
you terrible boy Jean Nicolas
and I knew, as seaweeds know of silence,
that the passion for gold and beauty
is the same passion for death.
© Translation: 2006, Nicolás Suescún
LIMOGES
LIMOGES
He aquí todos los cielosque nunca he sido
la pesadilla trenes en la noche
que no se mueven
igual que la risa del guardagujas
ensartando el hilo de sus días.
Ruinas antiguas y mares de otra parte
fluyen adentro como una traición
a lo que busco.
El beso que dejo en los labios de Salomé
esculpe la boca que pierdo
y equivoco desde Heráclito
el rumbo de mi itinerario de hielo.
Perderé de nuevo las estrellas
al descender a la noche
inhabitadas calles de Austerlitz
mármol cielo de la estación Saint Pierre de Corps
donde en una fracción de segundo
vi mi vida toda derrumbarse como un otoño.
A ti te crucé en la Avenida Diderot,
terrible niño Jean Nicolas –
y supe, como saben las algas del silencio,
que la pasión por el oro y la belleza
es la misma pasión por la muerte.
© 1999, María Clemencia Sánchez
From: El velorio de la amanuense
Publisher: Editorial Lealón, Medellín
From: El velorio de la amanuense
Publisher: Editorial Lealón, Medellín
Poems
Poems of María Clemencia Sánchez
Close
Limoges
Here are all the heavensI have never visited
the nightmare of trains at night
that don’t move
like the laughter of the pointsman
threading his days.
Ancient ruins and seas from elsewhere
flow inside like a betrayal
of what I look for.
The kiss I leave on Salome’s lips
sculptures the mouth I’m losing
and since Heraclitus I mistake
the course of my icy itinerary.
I will lose the stars again
when walking down
the inhabited streets of Austerlitz at night
the marble sky of the Saint Pierre de Corps station
where in a fraction of a second
I saw all my life fall to pieces like an Autumn.
I passed you on the Avenue Diderot,
you terrible boy Jean Nicolas
and I knew, as seaweeds know of silence,
that the passion for gold and beauty
is the same passion for death.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
From: El velorio de la amanuense
From: El velorio de la amanuense
Limoges
Here are all the heavensI have never visited
the nightmare of trains at night
that don’t move
like the laughter of the pointsman
threading his days.
Ancient ruins and seas from elsewhere
flow inside like a betrayal
of what I look for.
The kiss I leave on Salome’s lips
sculptures the mouth I’m losing
and since Heraclitus I mistake
the course of my icy itinerary.
I will lose the stars again
when walking down
the inhabited streets of Austerlitz at night
the marble sky of the Saint Pierre de Corps station
where in a fraction of a second
I saw all my life fall to pieces like an Autumn.
I passed you on the Avenue Diderot,
you terrible boy Jean Nicolas
and I knew, as seaweeds know of silence,
that the passion for gold and beauty
is the same passion for death.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère