Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Giovanny Gómez

TIMES

I speak about the days and the nights
I speak about the tremulation of the streets
I speak about the sun that forswears in its daggers

I speak about a sore on my back
where the weight of the world hurts
about the only thing the window panes don’t let you see
about ill will and its transparency in the blood

I speak about a sleeping animal
and the waltz beat of butterflies in my basin

I speak about not being able to ignore
the dawns with their dead
I speak about my sweaty hands
I speak about the walls where love hides itself
I speak about the god that sings on those shores
where the waves break

TIEMPOS

TIEMPOS

Hablo de los días y las noches
del trepidar de calles
del sol que perjura en sus navajas

Hablo de una llaga en mi espalda
donde el peso del mundo duele
de lo único que no dejan ver los cristales
del rencor y su transparencia en la sangre

Hablo de un animal dormido
y compases de vals con mariposas en mi alberca

Hablo de no poder ignorar
las auroras con sus muertos
de mis manos sudorosas
de las paredes donde se oculta el amor
del dios que canta en esas orillas
donde se rompen las olas
Close

TIMES

I speak about the days and the nights
I speak about the tremulation of the streets
I speak about the sun that forswears in its daggers

I speak about a sore on my back
where the weight of the world hurts
about the only thing the window panes don’t let you see
about ill will and its transparency in the blood

I speak about a sleeping animal
and the waltz beat of butterflies in my basin

I speak about not being able to ignore
the dawns with their dead
I speak about my sweaty hands
I speak about the walls where love hides itself
I speak about the god that sings on those shores
where the waves break

TIMES

I speak about the days and the nights
I speak about the tremulation of the streets
I speak about the sun that forswears in its daggers

I speak about a sore on my back
where the weight of the world hurts
about the only thing the window panes don’t let you see
about ill will and its transparency in the blood

I speak about a sleeping animal
and the waltz beat of butterflies in my basin

I speak about not being able to ignore
the dawns with their dead
I speak about my sweaty hands
I speak about the walls where love hides itself
I speak about the god that sings on those shores
where the waves break
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