Poem
Álvaro Marín
THE DEERS\' ASHES
The blue planet . . .And who stirs the fire of its volcanoes?
The planet of water . . .
but our thirst is not quenched
and death is a jaguar stalking the water.
Light is the holocaust of the deer,
this light burns
and aspires in vain to hide the ashes
or to paint a flower
on the page with a photo of the Hiroshima mushroom cloud.
The blue planet . . .
but what death gives us back its lava?
Maybe it will throw the inhaled poison at us, maybe
It will give us back our offerings.
© Translation: 2007, Nicolás Suescún
LA CENIZA DE LOS VENADOS
LA CENIZA DE LOS VENADOS
El planeta azul . . .¿Y quién atiza el fuego de sus volcanes?
El planeta de agua . . .
mas nuestra sed no es saciada
y la muerte es un jaguar que acecha estas aguas.
La luz es el holocausto de los venados,
quema esta luz
y en vano pretendes esconder la ceniza,
o pintar una flor
en la página en donde está la foto del hongo de Hiroshima.
El planeta azul . . .
¿pero que muerte nos devuelve su lava?
Tal vez nos arroja el veneno inhalado, tal vez
nos devuelve nuestras ofrendas.
© 2000, Álvaro Marín
From: Noche líquida
Publisher: Muestra de Poesía Colombiana, Lyrica Species, Manizales
From: Noche líquida
Publisher: Muestra de Poesía Colombiana, Lyrica Species, Manizales
Poems
Poems of Álvaro Marín
Close
THE DEERS\' ASHES
The blue planet . . .And who stirs the fire of its volcanoes?
The planet of water . . .
but our thirst is not quenched
and death is a jaguar stalking the water.
Light is the holocaust of the deer,
this light burns
and aspires in vain to hide the ashes
or to paint a flower
on the page with a photo of the Hiroshima mushroom cloud.
The blue planet . . .
but what death gives us back its lava?
Maybe it will throw the inhaled poison at us, maybe
It will give us back our offerings.
© 2007, Nicolás Suescún
From: Noche líquida
From: Noche líquida
THE DEERS\' ASHES
The blue planet . . .And who stirs the fire of its volcanoes?
The planet of water . . .
but our thirst is not quenched
and death is a jaguar stalking the water.
Light is the holocaust of the deer,
this light burns
and aspires in vain to hide the ashes
or to paint a flower
on the page with a photo of the Hiroshima mushroom cloud.
The blue planet . . .
but what death gives us back its lava?
Maybe it will throw the inhaled poison at us, maybe
It will give us back our offerings.
© 2007, Nicolás Suescún
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère