TRADUCCIONES
Little girl splashing in the rain
The sea is a maze of mirrors...
Houses that spread
Where are the limits... Twenty-four stills per second
LITTLE GIRL SPLASHING IN THE RAIN
Your five years
Splashing in the October rain,
Later knew that life
Is puddle-shaped,
With no precise limits and bright darkness.
Your five years,
Which gazed almost lightly at the sky,
Took a long time to realize
That the swallows that crossed
Dark avenues, sleepless boulevards
And a thousand aerial forests looking for shelter
Were not Becquer´s swallows.
You five years
Are now marooned
In the motionless dock
Of an abandoned harbour:
Memory.
[arriba]
The sea is a maze of mirrors
And the sky can barely reflect itself in it
Only on its edges
Which inflict incurable wounds,
Dangers assumed from the beginning
By intrepid travellers,
Eternal candidates to a glory
That wrecks and storms deny.
There are no Robinsons at these latitudes.
Only the dead lay on the shore.
[arriba]
Houses that spread
Close to rivers
Generally display on their façades
A blurred stain
That sometimes reaches
The inner walls of the chamber
And stuffed bodies
That will not see the summer,
Becoming covered in moss,
Blending memory with water´s dream.
[arriba]
Where are the limits,
Here where the city ends
And land begins?
Having passed the asphalt boundary
There remains the odd feeling of being
Outside of time,
In a different calendar of which I ignore
The cycles of the moon.
Where to aim my undstady
Steps that know not the ground´s lightness
And the outlined silhouettes
That are left behind along the way.
I could return, forever ignoring
That this boundary exits,
Though I know that, once visited, the abyss
Does not allow you to return.
[arriba]
TWENTY-FOUR STILLS PER SECOND
Back then it was only a fear,
Rumours of a city maddened
By modern times in movie theatres.
We thought Marilyn (or Norma)
Would leave the celluloid at one point
To call my name out in the silence
And ask me
At how many stills per second
Did I feel my life pass.
[arriba]
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