Te recuerdo, otoño / Guillermo Sucre

I remember You, Autumn

I remember you, autumn, in these leaves overflowing the backyard of the house. For days, the sun dries them out or the rain softens them. They dissolve and return to dirt, without you, autumn, unleashing the whirlwind of your ecstatic light, the imminence of what will sweep everything away. I can’t smell you, autumn, I can’t follow your footsteps, the exile from your ocher and aerial body. I can’t say: now it’s autumn and we face the long test of purification, of dispossession. But I can still love you more. The caobo tree is now even more delicate: from its nakedness I watch a tapestry with small solar spots appear.




La vastedad (1988)




{ Guillermo Sucre, Conversación con la intemperie. Seis poetas venezolanos, selección y prólogo de Gustavo Guerrero, Barcelona, España: Galaxia Gutenberg/Círculo de Lectores, 2008 }