absence

Standard

Absence
Claribel Alegría

Hello
I said looking at your portrait
and the greeting was stunned
between my lips.
Again the pang,
knowing that it is useless;
the scorched weather
of your absence.

Translation

Ausencia

Hola
dije mirando tu retrato
y se pasmó el saludo
entre mis labios.
Otra vez la punzada,
el saber que es inútil;
el calcinado clima
de tu ausencia.

Photo by Rúben Marques on Unsplash

lightly

Standard

To Go Lightly
Ángela Hernández Núñez

In innocence, eternity is possible.

But I have loved in haste,
with the attentiveness of objects that fly away.
I find myself saying, close the doors.
I find myself saying, love you ought to leave.
I find myself touching lines in the stone.

I think about the women who waited,
not for Ulysses, but for ordinary men.
Those who laid siege to cities,
beyond the great width
of their own hearts.

I have loved after and during the storm.
I carry a burden of light:
it turns the air to ashes.

Translation

Andar ligero

Screen Shot 2020-06-21 at 10.33.13

Photo by DDP on Unsplash

reflejo

Standard

Reflection
Ángela Hernández Núñez

If for the first time I could reclaim the comforting
clarity of my awareness

If my knees could explore the intimacy of the tree

And if, while running, I loosened stones
containing living creatures

If I could say “I”
taking by surprise the universe
that we ignore until the end…

Translation

Reflejo

Screen Shot 2020-06-21 at 10.38.12

Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

olvido

Standard

Poem of Your Oblivion
Aída Cartagena Portalatín
The soul in a mansion of snow,
the garment of words left absence naked
and your name became unnameable,
shipwrecked
on the sands of forsaken lips.

Translation

Poema de tu olvido

El alma en una mansión de nieve,
el traje de la palabra dejó desnuda la ausencia
y tu nombre era innombrable,
porque había naufragado
en la playa de unos labios desiertos.

Photo by shahab yazdi on Unsplash

sola

Standard

A Woman is Alone
Aída Cartagena Portalatín
A woman is alone. Alone with her stature.
With her open eyes. With her open arms.
With her heart open like a wide silence.
She waits in the desperate and despairing night without losing hope.
She thinks she is in the flagship
with the saddest light of creation.
Already she has hoisted her sails and let herself be carried by the North wind
in accelerated flight before the eyes of love.

A woman is alone. She holds her dreams fast with dreams,
the dreams that remain to her, and all the sky of the Antilles.
Solemn and quiet before the world that is a human stone,
in motion, adrift, lost in the sense
of its own word, its useless word.

A woman is alone. She thinks that now everything is nothing
and no one says anything from the party to the mourning
about the blood that leaps, about the blood that runs
about the blood that is born or dies of death.

Nobody comes forward to offer her a dress
to clothe her voice that sobs naked, spelling itself.

A woman is alone. She feels, and her truth drowns
in thoughts that translate the beauty of the rose,
of the star, of love, of man and of God.

Translation

Poema de tu olvido

Una mujer está sola. Sola con su estatura.
Con los ojos abiertos. Con los brazos abiertos.
Con el corazón abierto como un silencio ancho.
Espera en la desesperada y desesperante noche
sin perder la esperanza.
Piensa que está en el bajel almirante
con la luz más triste de la creación
Ya izó velas y se dejó llevar por el viento del Norte
con la figura acelerada ante los ojos del amor.
Una mujer está sola. Sujetando con sus sueños sus sueños,
los sueños que le restan y todo el cielo de Antillas.

Seria y callada frente al mundo que es una piedra humana,
móvil, a la deriva, perdido el sentido
de la palabra propia, de su palabra inútil.
Una mujer está sola. Piensa que ahora todo es nada
y nadie dice nada de la fiesta o el luto
de la sangre que salta, de la sangre que corre,
de la sangre que gesta o muere en la muerte.
Nadie se adelanta ofreciéndole un traje
para vestir una voz que desnuda solloza deletreándose.
Una mujer está sola. Siente, y su verdad se ahoga
en pensamientos que traducen lo hermoso de la rosa,
de la estrella, del amor, del hombre y de Dios.

Photo by boldbaatar dashnyam on Unsplash

open up

Standard

Open Up, Genitalia
Ana Istarú
Open up, genitalia
like a consenting flower
Undo the latches of your retreat
allow
the suffering swimmer to escape,
stop, don’t hold back
your fragile prancing,
open up with courage
like a balcony that emerges over the air
and shows off its geraniums.
Reveal,
oh shadowy well, your mystery.
Don’t halt its sailing voyage.
It doesn’t matter that your goodbye
pierces you like the north wind,
like an icy beam that houses
its splinters in your pelvis.
Open up, genitalia
turn yourself into a waterfall,
forget your sorrow.
Let it open for the child
that lives in your daydream.
Open bravely
your warm floodgates
to this honey ice cone,
to this animal that trembles
like a gust of wind,
to this wrinkled fruit
that will sink itself in the light with rage,
to search like a deer with eyes closed
for the nipples of the air, for the two breasts of the day.

Translation

Ábrete sexo 

Ábrete sexo
como una flor que accede,
descorre las aldabas de tu ermita,
deja escapar
al nadador transido,
desiste, no retengas
sus frágiles cabriolas,
ábrete con arrojo,
como un balcón que emerge
y ostenta sobre el aire sus geranios.
Desenfunda,
oh poza de penumbra, tu misterio.
No detengas su viaje al navegante.
No importa que su adiós
te hiera como cierzo,
como rayo de hielo que en la pelvis
aloja sus astillas.
Ábrete sexo,
hazte cascada,
olvida tu tristeza.
Deja partir al niño
que vive en tu entresueño.
Abre gallardamente
tus cálidas compuertas
a este copo de mieles,
a este animal que tiembla
como un jirón de viento,
a este fruto rugoso
que va a hundirse en la luz con arrebato,
a buscar como un ciervo con los ojos cerrados
los pezones del aire, los dos senos del día.