31 December 2003
el sol de la manana
y ese que larga sombra da en la tarde
y aquel que se adivina cuando arde
mas alla de horizontes y ventanas
hoy no eres sino la luna deleznable
la luz del sol te robas cuando puedes
no te extrane, mujer, que ahora te niegue
el que ayer se te mostrara tan amable
19 December 2003
con la esperanza encendida –
se que eres fruta prohibida
pero el deseo es mas fuerte.
Angelica, dame muerte:
comparte mi acto de vida.
Dame en tu puerto cabida
y refugiame en tu fuerte.
Ven, captura mis canhones!
y gana asi la batalla
entre nuestros corazones!
Yo he de cantarte canciones
cuando mi barco se vaya
vacio ya de emociones!
que cubre el campo y que brilla
bajo la luz amarilla
que el sol de diciembre emana.
Escarcha, tu lucha es vana:
no has de durar todo el dia –
brillando entregas tu vida:
lo que reflejas te danha.
A la luz que te ilumina
devuelves lo que es prestado:
tu hermosura pasajera.
La noche, paciente, espera
para acogerte en el prado –
tu historia nunca culmina.
12 December 2003
For me the uncommitted sea
the heart beat of the waves
The promised land is not for me
for me the sky both blue and free
or overcast and gray
The promised land is not for me
rather the desert my home forever be
my bed will be the sand
10 December 2003
08 December 2003
06 December 2003
with the black marks of printer ink
has made me stop and briefly think
of sad events that here went on.
I knew to you only I belonged
though you to me were like a sphinx
or like to a mouse a sly old lynx
that for amusement quietly longed.
To show my love and appreciation
to paper I committed a short poem
that broke my heart's incarceration
But you my poem rejected - now the nation
is never going to share in the amusement
of this small office infatuation.
21 October 2003
y saque de tus aguas nuevas fuerzas
para enfrentarme otra vez a las perversas
dudas que se aduenhan de mi mente.
y ya el sol de la tarde, lentamente
llena el cielo de Roma con su fuego
pero yo lo combato y lo aniego
al beber de tus aguas: mucha gente
ha llegado hasta aqui para ver ruinas
pero yo en tu Panteon bebi tu historia
de cupulas, columnas y hornacinas
tan augusta bebida me encamina
a cumplir mi destino: oscura gloria
de una tarde ya moderna, ya latina.
20 September 2003
I'm in the restaurant and ask for the bill
for my fried rice and spare ribs
then pay with visa -- and add a tip
and make the most of their good will
I then go, slowly, back to the mill
already yearning for my meal of tomorrow
Eating chinese will be a rest from my sorrow:
my burden burns under the grill...
The little old office squabbles
The bitter fighting for resources
The projects bursting like soap bubbles
All is forgotten for one long hour
while I eat rice with various sauces
and spare ribs, all sweet and sour
While waiting for the dentist to emerge from her cubicle, triumphant
after another successdul encounter with someone else's teeth
I sit in the waiting room and grab a 1997 reader's digest
and try not to remember the low pitch sound of drilling
the taste of bone turned dust and watered down with mouthwash
which I'll later spit, before sitting back down and opening my mouth for yet another round
How many times I've been to the spring for water
Often I took along the next available vessel
Seldom did I take notice: all that mattered
was to deal with my thirst and find comfort
to combat the summer heat and the lack of rain
inherent to the desert.
A word from you has changed all that
A thick black cloud over the sands
menacing in other contexts, here you are
the moisture of your lips, the thunder
of your laughter, the starred night sky
of your eyes, the moonlit dunes of your rediscovered body.
29 August 2003
lament your distance from the sea
the sea where you would like to be
moved by the scent of salty air
but to get there steps are needed
across the town, over the bridge:
walk up the slope, get to the ridge
don't let your thirst for sea go un-heeded
make your descend with feet and hands
feeling your way down the rough cliff
refreshed b'the spray of crashing waves
below the ridge there lies the sand
where you will lie, toil turned to bliss,
dream-eyed and quietly awake.
I waited for my bus to arrive
but the darned thing wouldn't come:
its driver must'ave got lost.
I waited for the sun to set
between a rock and a hard place -
for 'nights' always follow 'days':
on that you can always bet.
27 August 2003
Your voice carries far
Like the whistling of trains
and you have that rich laughter
just as fresh as thick rain
in the middle of summer
Rain that settles the dust
Rain that glimmers on flowers
I can hear your voice
like a bell on a tower.
Stern and somber, the sculptured head
stares at me from the top of the bookshelf.
Its gaze is neither full of remorse, nor of recrimination -
My brother made it as part of his education:
The model sat there, for hours naked
My brother says she was in fact uglier than the sculpture
and rather bored. I never knew the true person.
as the large plane is set in motion
and takes up to the sky. Later
the hours go by dreadfully slowly
I play cards with my neighbour, eat my meals
as they are offered, read a book
and watch the in-flight entertainment.
y yo lo llevo sin apuro
y es que al final hay esperanza
que crece mientras el día avanza
El día es largo como sombras
que el sol proyecta y la tarde nombra
Sombras que viven en mi memoria
que es agua y pozo y cordel y noria.
07 August 2003
I give myself to awe, dispair and fear
At dawn, at dusk, when dreams do not abide
and the heart empties, an inlet at low tide
At dawn, at dusk, when clouds seem to catch fire
the waves of day and night wash over my desires
At dawn, at dusk, sleeping or awake
The things I care about are at stake
11 July 2003
03 July 2003
De la alta torre tu mirada lanzas
como saeta contra tu enemigo
mas el que hieres no es mas que un mendigo
de tus dulces palabras y alabanzas.
and in English:
From the high tower, your gaze you throw
Like a sharp arrow against your foe
yet he whom you wounded does only beg
for your sweet words of love and praise.