Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Álvaro Marín

DESIRE

I could say silver sky or blue moon,
but that is not my voice
and if I draw a star
it is only to drive away my shadow.
Fortune teller of the night, decipher these waters:
I am the lonely sea approaching your lonely shores.
And today I would like to transform my voice
into a sea of light for the thirst of your night;
let my footsteps have
the resonance of dawn when I look for your footprint
and not the surrender of the sun’s suicide at day’s end.

Let my words be a rustle of wings,
and at the moment of writing the word love
let a flock of birds appear
to silence the noise of the bones of the air.
And if it is because of my waters’ dance 
in the night of your body,
let desire give us back
the sweet and painful memory of paradise lost.

DESEO

DESEO

Podría decir cielo de plata o luna azul,
pero esa no es mi voz
y si dibujo una estrella
es solamente para ahuyentar mi sombra.
Adivina de la noche, descifra estas aguas:
soy el mar solo acercándose a tus orillas solas.
Y hoy quisiera hacer de mi voz
un mar de luz para la sed de tu noche;
que mis pasos tengan
la resonancia del alba cuando busco tu huella
y no el abandono del sol suicidándose al final de la tarde.

Que mis palabras sean un rumor de alas,
y en el momento de escribir la palabra amor
surja una bandada de pájaros
que silencie el ruido de los huesos del aire.
Y si es por la danza de mis aguas
en la noche de tu cuerpo,
que el deseo nos devuelva
la dulce y dolorosa memoria del paraíso perdido.
Close

DESIRE

I could say silver sky or blue moon,
but that is not my voice
and if I draw a star
it is only to drive away my shadow.
Fortune teller of the night, decipher these waters:
I am the lonely sea approaching your lonely shores.
And today I would like to transform my voice
into a sea of light for the thirst of your night;
let my footsteps have
the resonance of dawn when I look for your footprint
and not the surrender of the sun’s suicide at day’s end.

Let my words be a rustle of wings,
and at the moment of writing the word love
let a flock of birds appear
to silence the noise of the bones of the air.
And if it is because of my waters’ dance 
in the night of your body,
let desire give us back
the sweet and painful memory of paradise lost.

DESIRE

I could say silver sky or blue moon,
but that is not my voice
and if I draw a star
it is only to drive away my shadow.
Fortune teller of the night, decipher these waters:
I am the lonely sea approaching your lonely shores.
And today I would like to transform my voice
into a sea of light for the thirst of your night;
let my footsteps have
the resonance of dawn when I look for your footprint
and not the surrender of the sun’s suicide at day’s end.

Let my words be a rustle of wings,
and at the moment of writing the word love
let a flock of birds appear
to silence the noise of the bones of the air.
And if it is because of my waters’ dance 
in the night of your body,
let desire give us back
the sweet and painful memory of paradise lost.
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