Hay la cabeza / Guillermo Sucre

There is the head

There is the head born in the mirror polished by
      thought
it appears like music coming back after a
      long forgetting
the light drawing it keeps the evening awake from where
      it emerges
remote like the bird pulsing in our
      hands
the skin burnt by the scars of the
      elements
it is the beloved head lying on the cliffs
      in the depths of the years
the salt destroys itself and dissolves into his hair
the beach the sun illuminates as it leaves
      fading on his forehead
his eyes fix the cold fulguration of someone
      who wakes up in the middle of a dream
      and no longer recognizes the world.




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 }