Peruvian poetry

curriculum vitae

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Curriculum Vitae

–Blanca Varela

let’s say you won the race
and the prize
was another race
you didn’t savor the wine of victory
but your own salt
you never listened to hurrahs
but dog barks
and your shadow
your own shadow
was your only
and disloyal competitor

Translation

Curriculum vitae

digamos que ganaste la carrera
y que el premio
era otra carrera
que no bebiste el vino de la victoria
sino tu propia sal
que jamás escuchaste vítores
sino ladridos de perros
y que tu sombra
tu propia sombra
fue tu única
y desleal competidora.

 

Photo by Martino Pietropoli on Unsplash

love poem 8

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Love Poem 8

–Darío Jaramillo Agudelo

Your tongue, your wise tongue that invents my skin,
your fire tongue that burns me,
your tongue that creates the instant of insanity, delirium
of the body in love
your tongue, sacred whip, sweet ember,
invocation of fire that takes me out of myself,
that transforms me,
your tongue of unmodest flesh,
your tongue of surrender that demands everything from me,
your very mine tongue,
your beautiful tongue electrifying my lips, making yours the body you have purified,
your tongue exploring and discovering me,
your gorgeous tongue also knowing how to say it loves me.

Translation

Poema de amor 8

Tu lengua, tu sabia lengua que inventa mi piel,
tu lengua de fuego que me incendia,
tu lengua que crea el instante de demencia, el delirio del cuerpo enamorado,
tu lengua, látigo sagrado, brasa dulce,
invocación de los incendios que me saca de mí, que me transforma,
tu lengua de carne sin pudores,
tu lengua de entrega que me demanda todo, tu muy mía lengua,
tu bella lengua que electriza mis labios, que vuelve tuyo mi cuerpo por ti purificado,
tu lengua que me explora y me descubre,
tu hermosa lengua que también sabe decir que me ama.

 

Photo by Nsey Benajah on Unsplash

bodiless

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I Go Bodiless
–Blanca Varela

I go bodiless from the sun to the shady
water music of living shadow
through the narrowing vagina
which guides me from blindness to light

under the high echoing dome
in this colossal semblance of a nest
I touch the sea belly with my belly
I inspect my body meticulously
poke at my feelings
I am alive

Translation

incorpóreo paseo del sol a lo umbrío
agua música en la sombra viviente
atravieso la afilada vagina
que me guía de la ceguera a la luz

bajo la alta cúpula sonora
en este colosal simulacro de nido
toco el vientre marino con mi vientre
registro minuciosamente mi cuerpo
hurgo mis sentimientos
estoy viva

Photo by Agata Create on Unsplash

The hanged man

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Dream of the Forgotten Lover
-Lucia Fox
The man entered through my eyes
and left I dare not mention how…
But now there seems to remain no trace of him
in my body. The effects have passed
like a fever, and I hardly think of him
when he returns sick from Japan
in my dream.
So united in bed, so close on our walks,
and now a postcard
painted in the windowpane by my dream.
Is it possible to sacrifice?
Is it a sacrifice to sleep in flamingo feathers?
Patience stretches out unbelievably,
developed while drinking – unlike Socrates –
a cup of tea.
The feeling
is a little like when the Tarot cards by chance
turn up the Hanged Man.

Photo by Jacob Ufkes on Unsplash