Oh, mancha del lloriqueo universal / Jesús Montoya

Oh, stain of universal whimpering

And not being able to leave.
And not being able to say what I’m saying now.
And not being able to even scream.
And not being able to even stop continuing.
And not being able to accept or renounce.
And not being able to scorn.
And not being able to at least burst.
And not being able to desire or stop desiring.
And not being able to forget.

Reinaldo Arenas

Oh, stain of universal whimpering.
Oh, broken body.
Oh, fleeting matches.
Oh, heartbreaking feeling of relief.
Oh, vagabond heart.
Oh, magic mirror of my chest.
Oh, marginal street.
Oh, Virgin of delights:
break my entire head
with the most blessed hangover you’ve got
I’m letting myself get lost just enough
no one will see my eyes again
I never opened them under the sea
and the waves are cold
and it’s the same things
always the same things
since forever
as ever
tracing this delicate repetition
if I’m going to hallucinate I’ll do it
from an elemental and farcical light
from a puerile and strident light
from an enamored and hoarse light
enamored and slutty like my voice on the sidewalks
whispering huge kisses
sweeping aside everything that happens around me
under the filthy spark of the stars
you will be my love
don’t abandon me in the night
and burn my hands during the day
now and forever
with the same fire
facing the crowd
facing the people heading to work on the streets
I stroll backwards through life with a tear falling from the sun
and I’m so stupid
and I’m so banal
and I’m so mundane
spinning in the unknown patios of cities
where my loves are lost
I sleep with my head leaning on their trips
cackling to myself
betraying myself in my own illusion
drawing lines on myself with the weeping of roads.

Oh, sparkling sea.
Oh, midnight prayer.
Oh, Mérida faggots.
Oh, sweet mother who waits for me.
Oh, cold and pale body.
Oh, harmonic laughter.
Oh, girl with big eyes.
Oh, mountains of the south.
Oh, crazed poet
if your face has filled
with tears again
it’s not from shame
learn that you are minimal
and that you’ve shed
your skin like a snake does
let me show you
let me explain
let me sing to you
the smallest reflection
from the puddle of my face
murky and yellowish
learn how to come back once and for all
and forget authentic departure
only within is the shade that kills you
only within the roses are furiously white
highway ruffian
prince of the binge
love of my loves
boy of my dreams,
sing with me,
sing my first trip.

{ Jesús Montoya, Primer viaje, Maracaibo: Movimiento Poético de Maracaibo, 2014 }

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