sábado, 27 de septiembre de 2008






Conserve enough

to get up in the morning

for the courage to put your eyes back in their sockets

and see the last light of summer filtering through the leaves

of the plants on the balcony

like a vine that leaps into the room and grabs onto

your feet,

climbing upward in search of a heart.

Put aside just enough

To stick your nose near the chimney and sniff,

I say “just enough” because the scent of orange trees

no longer wafts there

and, if you insist on breathing in, a black soot

like an undesirable ointment that is old-age’s passing

insists on blooming within those nares

that some day, less than professional hands will snuff.

Save up so much more than you can imagine

by not wasting Super Glue along the neckline

after you figure out the exact place to stick the ears

that will open their frozen-stiff auricles, those sensors

of the sublime murmur letting you pass

above the empty noise that nothingness produces when it travels

the length and breadth of your body over and over again.

Set aside a goodly amount of what it takes

to place your mouth upon the wound made by

your voice trying to rise above your chin,

and bite down hard, so that your teeth sink firmly into

your bones. That final, precise task is theirs,

to leave the expression with smile’s escape,

a possible quick exit when things get bad.


© David Lago-Gonzalez, 2008

© translated by Kurt Findensein, 2008


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