XX / Eduardo Mariño

XX

1.
This sea lashes my desire, forcing me to feel once again the shameful, unnameable grief I carry in the medulla of my face; second skin that embitters my laughter and stirs my tears.

2.
This sea, cruel bath of ironies shrouding me.

3.
I remember this death as having fallen many years ago, while it happens before my eyes: the extended curve of the aquatic dagger, the moans and anguish.

4.
They’re precise, like nails dug into eyes, the voices of almost neglected, almost human oblivion.

5.
I’m trapped by a supreme voice with its romance, its devious lunar horns to the west of the glance, in the sustained fast I commemorate with this crystalline blood, filled with the song of glass and metal.

6.
Broken brotherhood; incipient transmigration it hurts to hear under these seas.

7.
A word dies in front of me and its tense features carry me to the original embrace.

8.
I have lost so much time hunting solutions from the sidewalk across the street; and I deny that I’m living a farce. Is this sea-ocean not a return, an inverted ascesis?

9.
Your mistakes and economies of anger have pummeled me; also, the first nighttime rainstorm in April, always waiting for a minor interval of nostalgia that might intensify its energies, splashing the immutable columns of the sky with its ocean bellows in an angular cascade; constant sign of a foreseen extinction, déjà vu of a wandering soul, meditative amid my ruins, spread out beneath this vulgar and distressing wind.

10.
Mirage, stigma, curse of a couple centuries, features in the clay, traces in the water that edify a silent race amid its incessant throb; eye drops, inside them, a fugitive surveillance that salutes the halos in the fireflies and hallucinates a rainstorm at the bottom of its misfortune.

11.
On the twenty-fifth night after the solstice, I am thinking you, coming barefoot under the rain, drenched in my sadness.




Por si los dioses mueren (1995)




{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }