martes, 7 de junio de 2016

Ana María Shua, fragmento


Un hombre sueña que ama a una mujer. La mujer huye. El hombre envía en su persecución los perros de su deseo. La mujer cruza un puente sobre un río, atraviesa un muro, se eleva sobre una montaña. Los perros atraviesan el río a nado, saltan el muro y al pie de la montaña se detienen jadeando. El hombre sabe, en su sueño, que jamás en su sueño podrá alcanzarla. Cuando despierta, la mujer está a su lado y el hombre descubre, decepcionado, que ya es suya.

Ana María Shua (Buenos Aires, Argentina)

jueves, 2 de junio de 2016

When terrible accidents happen ... CR- VocalesV


          When Terrible Accidents Happen

She could have been a character from a strip
or a vampire in a silly soap opera.
But she was just a woman whom I loved deeply,
and that was even worse.

When terrible accidents happen,
at first, they always seem reversible
As if only by changing our train of thoughts
we could also change the facts
and their circumstances.
Like jumping five minutes too early
and crashing onto the pavement
with such slowness, that your bones
remain unbroken, and your heart
continues pumping blood throughout
your body.
Five minutes too early
for death to touch your fingers.

Sometimes I wonder
what would have happened
if I wouldn’t have met you.
Then, I realize how stupid
that question is since
nothing would have changed in my life,
save for the fact that
that empty grave where the flowers will eventually grow
wouldn’t mean anything to me.
It wouldn’t mean a life
that I have lost, but just an
ordinary name without a body to carry it.

When terrible accidents happen,
we always think someone is lying,
so we wait in silence, patiently
for that someone to laugh, to say
it was a joke and to turn his back on us.
Like the day you said you loved me
and I waited patiently and quietly
for you to laugh and to make
that gesture you used to make
all the time with your hands,
like frightening away mosquitoes.
But you didn’t say anything,
you only held my hand tight
and smiled at me nervously,
as we both leaned our backs
against the wall and slipped our bodies
to the floor without a word.
The force of love crashing us down
and no one nearby to refute it.

Will the guards of the black gate
deny the paralysation of your organs,
the silence of your voice, the shadows
in your pupils, the purple spots on your skin?
Will they refute your death now that you’re gone?

You’ve gone back to the rubbles of your youth
with your darkened palate,
with your fallen teeth,
with drops of your blood falling from the windows.
You’ve gone back to your dark palace,
you’ve hanged the dolls,
you’ve burned the photos,
you’re gone.

Dust, that’s all you’ve left behind.
Dust, and grave flowers
that have yet to grow. 

CR- VocalesV