Poems by Jorge Olivera Castillo (English Version)
NOTIFICATION
Be my companion,
so that you may see the veins of the dawn.
Come take my hand,
so that I can carry you, without delay, to the doors
of hope.
Grant a kiss to save me from death.
Steal a ray of light from the afternoon
to cover my semi-darkness with fire.
Don't allow my patience
to end in humid dust and rubble
Don't take too long to fall here
between these columns of muscle and passion
Remember that in my forearms
the winters come to an end and
the fevers of a summer explode,
leaving us at the mercy of a tender sweat and jubilation.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FORGET YOU
Forgetting is blind,
It hasn't discovered the latch of my conscience.
It comes cloaked in your reproach, demanding a luscious welcome
and leaves behind it the rancid taste of madness.
With your anger the shadows descend
from one bitter word, a forest of thorns is born,
from your lips grows jealousy and a whirlwind of doubts.
In spite of everything, I declare myself a guest in your labyrinth,
without the strength to forget,
poised for the perfect kiss,
as on the last night on which we escaped to infinity.
AT THE END OF THE DAY
In the jaws of the Bay we drink a toast.
There is understanding, pleasure,
euphoria, because we are the victims.
The troubadour launches a sea shanty
and the water laps at our bodies.
Over the music I take the oars
and on the horizon I try to capture a piece
of the afternoon.
You ask me the code of love; you speak of volcanoes and
virtues, of the soul that seethes beneath your chest and…
to take in full flight a desire that peels away your feelings.
The twilight embraces us
from a distance, the defiant voice of the guitar and
the minstrel fills the air with feeling???
Soon afterwards, we throw to the water all fears of
timidity and the syllables of a dialogue that has become
extinct.
It is the end of fever that approaches.
Finally alone, immersed in our paradise,
indifferent to the gaping yawn of the Bay.
BURDEN OF CONSCIENCE
I didn't speak the words that would beautify the dawns of your tomorrows.
I forgot to convey the co-ordinates of a desire,
boiling with impatience in your senses.
I regret not having kissed you; eagerly planning
to link you to legend.
Forgive me
it was a minimal afternoon
the only possibility at these times
of vertigo and horror.
CAUSE AND EFFECT
If I tell you I love you
I will destroy time
invite hurricanes
remove the stars
cause shipwrecks.
If you tell me you love me
the foundations would tremble
the trees would kneel down
the mountains would dry up
nothing, but empty space.
When the dawn arrives
and we see the ruins that
we together have caused
we will return to the beginning
without wanting to relive the chaos.
SUNDAY RELIEF
Sundays are so unpleasant
with their athletic stampede
I, who lent my dreams to them
for a painless afternoon
Who added to their inventory
a testimony grazing my luck
They passed deliriously, with one hundred displays,
in herds
I could see them with my eyes
of mercury and iron
Goodbye, dissonant sundays
Goodbye, hopelessness.
LATENT POETRY
What can I do to plant myself in your earth,
to steal a space in your gaze
to escape like a lynx from your inconclusive kiss.
What can I do if today you don't speak the truth,
and tomorrow my spirit is broken.
Where will my poetry go
if it can follow neither your wakeful lantern
nor the voice that speaks the language of my nerves.
What can I do at the break of dawn
so as not to cut myself with your name,
beloved of my pillow.
Tell me, what can I do? So far from your cheeks
and yet so incredibly close.
What can I do? Without this magic of fires and dreams
that dulls the pain and leaves me feeling
HAPPY.