Poem
María Clemencia Sánchez
HELEN KELLER AVENUE AND 15TH
What a place for a love date.Those who agreed to meet again
at the crossing of Helen Keller Avenue and 15th
at five in the afternoon, Lisbon time,
never met.
They passed so close
they did not see each other.
they walked into the cold wind
coming from the dock
where Fernando and the others
fled like fog.
The rose, the same rose as Keller’s,
in the hands of these lovers
sharpened its thorns
just when the day
portended the blind hour
of oblivion.
© Translation: 2006, Nicolás Suescún
AVENIDA HELEN KELLER EN EL CRUCE DE LA CALLE 15
AVENIDA HELEN KELLER EN EL CRUCE DE LA CALLE 15
Vaya lugar para una cita de amor.Aquellos que acordaron el reencuentro
En la Avenida Helen Keller
en el cruce de la calle15,
A las cinco de la tarde, hora de Lisboa,
Jamás se encontraron.
Cruzaron tan cerca que no se vieron.
Tropezaron con el viento frío
Que venía de ese muelle
Donde Fernando y los otros
Huyeron como niebla.
La rosa, la misma rosa de Keller,
en las manos de estos amantes,
Afilaba sus espinas,
Justo cuando el día
Auguraba la hora ciega
Del olvido.
© 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
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HELEN KELLER AVENUE AND 15TH
What a place for a love date.Those who agreed to meet again
at the crossing of Helen Keller Avenue and 15th
at five in the afternoon, Lisbon time,
never met.
They passed so close
they did not see each other.
they walked into the cold wind
coming from the dock
where Fernando and the others
fled like fog.
The rose, the same rose as Keller’s,
in the hands of these lovers
sharpened its thorns
just when the day
portended the blind hour
of oblivion.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
From: El velorio de la amanuense
From: El velorio de la amanuense
HELEN KELLER AVENUE AND 15TH
What a place for a love date.Those who agreed to meet again
at the crossing of Helen Keller Avenue and 15th
at five in the afternoon, Lisbon time,
never met.
They passed so close
they did not see each other.
they walked into the cold wind
coming from the dock
where Fernando and the others
fled like fog.
The rose, the same rose as Keller’s,
in the hands of these lovers
sharpened its thorns
just when the day
portended the blind hour
of oblivion.
© 2006, Nicolás Suescún
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