Poem
Jorge Bustamante García
RETURNING HOME
The journey has been long and hazardous.There is still a handful of mountains
of cities and rivers,
the sound of some bodies,
certain nights
configuring the galaxies with their hands,
thousands of words and some faces.
There are also some evenings looking at the sea.
Returning home, with just some books
in the suitcase, several unfinished poems,
a schedule of trains and fictions.
Going back home to the town with red roofs
Where the friends and the bars of the past are now gone
and to confirm that everything is the same everywhere
that there is no need to take things too seriously
since, anyhow, no one is left unharmed
On this frail path that leads nowhere.
Why return home
When I am already there?
© Translation: 2006, Blanca Maldonado
VOLVER A CASA
VOLVER A CASA
El viaje ha sido largo y peligroso.Queda un puñado de montañas
de ciudades y ríos,
el sonido de unos cuerpos,
ciertas noches
configurando con las manos las galaxias,
miles de palabras y unos rostros.
También unas cuantas tardes mirando el mar.
Volver a casa y en la valija apenas
unos libros, varios poemas inconclusos,
y un itinerario de trenes y ficciones.
Volver a casa al poblado de techos rojizos
donde ya no están los amigos ni los bares de antes
y corroborar que todo es lo mismo en todas partes
que no hay que tomarse las cosas tan a pecho
pues al fin y al cabo nadie sale ileso
de este frágil camino hacia la nada.
¿Para qué volver a casa
Si ya me encuentro en ella?
© 1989, Jorge Bustamante García
From: El desorden del viento
Publisher: Universidad Autónoma de México, México D.F.
From: El desorden del viento
Publisher: Universidad Autónoma de México, México D.F.
Poems
Poems of Jorge Bustamante García
Close
RETURNING HOME
The journey has been long and hazardous.There is still a handful of mountains
of cities and rivers,
the sound of some bodies,
certain nights
configuring the galaxies with their hands,
thousands of words and some faces.
There are also some evenings looking at the sea.
Returning home, with just some books
in the suitcase, several unfinished poems,
a schedule of trains and fictions.
Going back home to the town with red roofs
Where the friends and the bars of the past are now gone
and to confirm that everything is the same everywhere
that there is no need to take things too seriously
since, anyhow, no one is left unharmed
On this frail path that leads nowhere.
Why return home
When I am already there?
© 2006, Blanca Maldonado
From: El desorden del viento
From: El desorden del viento
RETURNING HOME
The journey has been long and hazardous.There is still a handful of mountains
of cities and rivers,
the sound of some bodies,
certain nights
configuring the galaxies with their hands,
thousands of words and some faces.
There are also some evenings looking at the sea.
Returning home, with just some books
in the suitcase, several unfinished poems,
a schedule of trains and fictions.
Going back home to the town with red roofs
Where the friends and the bars of the past are now gone
and to confirm that everything is the same everywhere
that there is no need to take things too seriously
since, anyhow, no one is left unharmed
On this frail path that leads nowhere.
Why return home
When I am already there?
© 2006, Blanca Maldonado
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