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 }
Showing posts with label Eduardo Mariño. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eduardo Mariño. Show all posts
4.13.2012
4.12.2012
XIX / Eduardo Mariño
XIX
1.
The precipice falls asleep under my own dream, the afternoon extracts flaming plumes from the torturous current that sooner or later, in one way or another, softly pronounces your name and like an eagle of fire, you burst into my jungle; the branches tremble and our shades are a seductive and ambiguously tender mask.
2.
You come to teach me the true magic, that of heroes who look inside their twilights without fear of falling into eternal returns knowing that being heroes isn’t everything (many of them die without knowing the Order that hides behind the majestic flights and broken glances you bring on the rivers, in your snowy arms, your wings, twilight phoenix, glorious Bennu, beloved Ishtar...).
3.
I have always known, life is like a river of fire that makes us repeat ourselves at each instant.
Por si los dioses mueren (1995)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
1.
The precipice falls asleep under my own dream, the afternoon extracts flaming plumes from the torturous current that sooner or later, in one way or another, softly pronounces your name and like an eagle of fire, you burst into my jungle; the branches tremble and our shades are a seductive and ambiguously tender mask.
2.
You come to teach me the true magic, that of heroes who look inside their twilights without fear of falling into eternal returns knowing that being heroes isn’t everything (many of them die without knowing the Order that hides behind the majestic flights and broken glances you bring on the rivers, in your snowy arms, your wings, twilight phoenix, glorious Bennu, beloved Ishtar...).
3.
I have always known, life is like a river of fire that makes us repeat ourselves at each instant.
Por si los dioses mueren (1995)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
4.11.2012
In den Traum / Eduardo Mariño
In den Traum
As if suddenly an old tree spoke to us, or the ground beneath our sad steps named our sins or defeats one by one. In such a way that the God who observes you never ceased in his effort to humiliate you.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
As if suddenly an old tree spoke to us, or the ground beneath our sad steps named our sins or defeats one by one. In such a way that the God who observes you never ceased in his effort to humiliate you.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
4.10.2012
Doppelgänger / Eduardo Mariño
Doppelgänger
Atrocious like a wolf thirsting for moons, I come from always going back over my steps.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
Atrocious like a wolf thirsting for moons, I come from always going back over my steps.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
12.06.2011
Der Alchemist / Eduardo Mariño
Der Alchemist
I don’t long for any recompense. I only watch and wait.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
I don’t long for any recompense. I only watch and wait.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
12.05.2011
Evaristo Jiménez se niega a enterrar su barco / Eduardo Mariño
Evaristo Jiménez Refuses to Bury His Boat
Until the decrepitude of the word I didn’t know I carried such an unusual agony. Even then, I will never be able to convince myself of the futility of so much ocean.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
Until the decrepitude of the word I didn’t know I carried such an unusual agony. Even then, I will never be able to convince myself of the futility of so much ocean.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
12.02.2011
Terraza desde ninguna voz / Eduardo Mariño
Terrace from No Voice
Some hand will nervously seek the nervous company of another hand in the penumbra, one chair will slowly approach another and a silence like forbidden skin will come to swing behind the melody. I loose my eyes toward the door, distant like all doors, disquieting like my own exit, like no exit; I look outside and only guess at the rumor of your barefoot steps disturbing me in the night.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
Some hand will nervously seek the nervous company of another hand in the penumbra, one chair will slowly approach another and a silence like forbidden skin will come to swing behind the melody. I loose my eyes toward the door, distant like all doors, disquieting like my own exit, like no exit; I look outside and only guess at the rumor of your barefoot steps disturbing me in the night.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
12.01.2011
Ynés, 1993 / Eduardo Mariño
Ynes, 1993
The whole house was made of stone. The coffee was sour, the kisses at the door left dry lips, the tired glance as if returning from a thousand cities.
Only your name was a synonym for astonishment.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
The whole house was made of stone. The coffee was sour, the kisses at the door left dry lips, the tired glance as if returning from a thousand cities.
Only your name was a synonym for astonishment.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
11.28.2011
Siboney / Eduardo Mariño
Siboney
The light conceals you, but your sickly lineage has measure and a corporeal nature: make pain, now, make sangria of insides. Move your soul to the least modest side and it will be nighttime and you will be outside, where no one observes you, under the light, this light.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
The light conceals you, but your sickly lineage has measure and a corporeal nature: make pain, now, make sangria of insides. Move your soul to the least modest side and it will be nighttime and you will be outside, where no one observes you, under the light, this light.
La vida profana de Evaristo Jiménez (2002)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
11.18.2011
V / Eduardo Mariño
V
1.
Tomorrow, the thousandth augury, the fearsome memory, God’s remorseful urge, the moribund sacrament, the terrible gods miserably cornered at the tip of the dream; childhood decrees a spectral silence, all of this, the challenge and the awe from me a promise:
2.
Never, the sentences, the hanging moons, the hands drowning in the fog, the wax boiling in the eyes, lying, subjugating. Celaeno, evening goodbyes, inequalities in the final skin that consecrate the least of man’s rights, of the illuminated dream that drags its name and its disgrace; the walls erase all signs of names and the secret senses awaken an ironic nostalgia of seas, suns that fall, heroes, unfinished journeys, stories that turn and turn without a face, without a number, nameless, timeless:
3.
Yesterday, a sail on the horizon, a candle on your table, a cave in the sand, a bloodless conquest, packed with previous attempts. The Word names the prohibited altars and the astonishing lines of Fire. I know that the hard spiral of this immense crucible of ignominies spies on me with its terrible, black, open and restless hair, its tiny tiger’s smile and the dagger at its belt, cruelly sharpened, eternal, inextinguishable in my side, its blade, the weak gratings that occasion the misfortune of a single caress:
4.
Eternity, of whose secret songs someone has said they reveal the time and place of a revenge. With certainty I know it corresponds to its infallible condition of witness, to consider this wound a triumph, an overwhelming defeat or simply a grateful reminder for the Dharma of these hours under the sign of the Desert of Fire.
Por si los dioses mueren (1995)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
1.
Tomorrow, the thousandth augury, the fearsome memory, God’s remorseful urge, the moribund sacrament, the terrible gods miserably cornered at the tip of the dream; childhood decrees a spectral silence, all of this, the challenge and the awe from me a promise:
2.
Never, the sentences, the hanging moons, the hands drowning in the fog, the wax boiling in the eyes, lying, subjugating. Celaeno, evening goodbyes, inequalities in the final skin that consecrate the least of man’s rights, of the illuminated dream that drags its name and its disgrace; the walls erase all signs of names and the secret senses awaken an ironic nostalgia of seas, suns that fall, heroes, unfinished journeys, stories that turn and turn without a face, without a number, nameless, timeless:
3.
Yesterday, a sail on the horizon, a candle on your table, a cave in the sand, a bloodless conquest, packed with previous attempts. The Word names the prohibited altars and the astonishing lines of Fire. I know that the hard spiral of this immense crucible of ignominies spies on me with its terrible, black, open and restless hair, its tiny tiger’s smile and the dagger at its belt, cruelly sharpened, eternal, inextinguishable in my side, its blade, the weak gratings that occasion the misfortune of a single caress:
4.
Eternity, of whose secret songs someone has said they reveal the time and place of a revenge. With certainty I know it corresponds to its infallible condition of witness, to consider this wound a triumph, an overwhelming defeat or simply a grateful reminder for the Dharma of these hours under the sign of the Desert of Fire.
Por si los dioses mueren (1995)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
5.04.2010
XXV / Eduardo Mariño
XXV
1.
Outside the storm rages with great obstinacy, erratic and at the same time perfectly nailed with its glimmers, in the trembling of your glance.
2.
Do you still hear me? Do you know how many accounts hang from the lightning’s tail? Who knows?
3.
Fate is a gust of wind that spatters our face with mud and fresh rain; Fate is a vile ruse by the gods to hide their incompetence.
4.
Lift your face, the flash.
5.
Tell me if you’re still raining.
6.
Let out a slow and sincere sigh, like the breathing of eras across the sky’s unarmed skin; feel the murmur under your steps.
7.
No, don’t go now, it’s cold and my hands are stiff with fear.
8.
Have you noticed?, something joins us with sickly indifference or apparent desolation; I’m starting to think we never came from where we thought we did and that we’ll never get to where we’re going; this is a harsh portrait of the Earth’s sorrows, its crushed entrails and my thought in your eyes, sad and nearly consumed, by the rays and the thunder, and the hours, and my infantile harassment, and [...] well, some things I don’t understand.
9.
These notes grow day by day, and I have the firm conviction that the movements I predict in your hair aren’t due merely to the storm, there’s a rhythmic premonition and minor swings of reproach that prefigure eventual fractures of the sacrament.
10.
No, the roof won’t give in yet, I promise.
11.
Let it keep raining, and if by chance I close my eyes, Yaddith will have ceased shining in them.
Por si los dioses mueren (1995)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
1.
Outside the storm rages with great obstinacy, erratic and at the same time perfectly nailed with its glimmers, in the trembling of your glance.
2.
Do you still hear me? Do you know how many accounts hang from the lightning’s tail? Who knows?
3.
Fate is a gust of wind that spatters our face with mud and fresh rain; Fate is a vile ruse by the gods to hide their incompetence.
4.
Lift your face, the flash.
5.
Tell me if you’re still raining.
6.
Let out a slow and sincere sigh, like the breathing of eras across the sky’s unarmed skin; feel the murmur under your steps.
7.
No, don’t go now, it’s cold and my hands are stiff with fear.
8.
Have you noticed?, something joins us with sickly indifference or apparent desolation; I’m starting to think we never came from where we thought we did and that we’ll never get to where we’re going; this is a harsh portrait of the Earth’s sorrows, its crushed entrails and my thought in your eyes, sad and nearly consumed, by the rays and the thunder, and the hours, and my infantile harassment, and [...] well, some things I don’t understand.
9.
These notes grow day by day, and I have the firm conviction that the movements I predict in your hair aren’t due merely to the storm, there’s a rhythmic premonition and minor swings of reproach that prefigure eventual fractures of the sacrament.
10.
No, the roof won’t give in yet, I promise.
11.
Let it keep raining, and if by chance I close my eyes, Yaddith will have ceased shining in them.
Por si los dioses mueren (1995)
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
8.22.2009
La evocación por el cigarrillo / Eduardo Mariño
Evocation for the Cigarette
Arrowed smoke you reach my memory.
Two hundred thirty-six cigarettes since I’ve seen you
are leaving a stain in the eye
a certain trembling
in the writing hand.
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
Arrowed smoke you reach my memory.
Two hundred thirty-six cigarettes since I’ve seen you
are leaving a stain in the eye
a certain trembling
in the writing hand.
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
8.19.2009
A la salida del fastuoso recital / Eduardo Mariño
Leaving the Lavish Recital
Sometimes love
I feel embarrassed for poets:
So much lacerated intent
so much forced ego
and yet
they’re always sad
they’re always scarce.
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
Sometimes love
I feel embarrassed for poets:
So much lacerated intent
so much forced ego
and yet
they’re always sad
they’re always scarce.
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
8.09.2009
A propósito de Job, 27,9 / Eduardo Mariño
Regarding Job 27:9
Just as the dry leaves
hide themselves
in the depths of the forest.
Will the overwhelming city
by any chance hide
its solitary poets?
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
Just as the dry leaves
hide themselves
in the depths of the forest.
Will the overwhelming city
by any chance hide
its solitary poets?
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
8.05.2009
Afuera la luz se extingue vaporosa / Eduardo Mariño
Outside the Light Is Extinguished Vapor
Who am I at this hour?
Where do my truth and your distance dwell?
Where the measure of my time,
barely a ghost or a vestige of your own?
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
Who am I at this hour?
Where do my truth and your distance dwell?
Where the measure of my time,
barely a ghost or a vestige of your own?
{ Eduardo Mariño, A la salida del fastuoso recital, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2009 }
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