The world was smaller
and lonelier
when I got up.
Preoccupied, I poured
hot water
into an empty ma-te cup.
Cuando me levanté
el mundo era más chico
y soledoso.
Distraido, derramé
agua caliente
en un mate vacío.
28 feb. 2017
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Monday, February 27, 2017
A JUAN IGNACIO
A la memoria de Juan Ignacio Magnabosco 1961 - 2017
No sé si ustedes están enterados
I don't know if you are aware
de lo que le pasó a Juan
of what happened to Juan
tuvo un accidente con el tractor
he had an accident with the tractor
y falleció
and died
falleció
falleció
I am stunned by that word
that takes away a friend
and a life.
Standing naked under the stars,
I wonder how Juan could be dead.
To the south is the Southern Cross
and the Great Cloud of Magellan.
To the north,
Orion stands
on his head.
27 Feb. 2017
No sé si ustedes están enterados
I don't know if you are aware
de lo que le pasó a Juan
of what happened to Juan
tuvo un accidente con el tractor
he had an accident with the tractor
y falleció
and died
falleció
falleció
I am stunned by that word
that takes away a friend
and a life.
Standing naked under the stars,
I wonder how Juan could be dead.
To the south is the Southern Cross
and the Great Cloud of Magellan.
To the north,
Orion stands
on his head.
27 Feb. 2017
Friday, February 24, 2017
This week I'm seeing Vietnam in the list of the top ten countries visiting the poetry blog. Argentina's in there too, but Chile is not. It seems that I get one or the other, but not both, The same is true of Spain and Portugal. Maybe in each case I have just one fan, who is constantly crossing the border like a bagashero. [How many of you know that word? It's Portunhol for "contrabandista."]
In our possessed state, Beauty speaks through us. She has Her own wisdom, which we are powerless to match or refute. She is the source of Life and Death. Though we may retransmit sparks of Her overwhelming light, we are basically along for the ride. We are the wood burning in Her sacred dhuni, Her fire-pit, which is also our funeral pyre.
D. Carlos Traxler
One year ago: 24 Feb. 2016
D. Carlos Traxler
One year ago: 24 Feb. 2016
Thursday, February 23, 2017
In the end it is beauty that we love, beauty that heals the soul and makes us believe that there could be a god, must be a god. We will do anything to have such beauty, to possess it, whether or not it can really be possessed, because we worship it. In that sense, at least, there is a god. Beauty is a god that, instead of being possessed, possesses us, drives us, riding us like the gods of Vodou, to imitate it, re-create it, and love it. Before such an onslaught of divinity we are helpless.
D. Carlos Traxler
One year ago: 23 Feb. 2016
D. Carlos Traxler
One year ago: 23 Feb. 2016
