11
mayo 2002

 

Manuel
 
  Lozano
 
  


Datos en el
índice de autores

 

Dos
poemas

Gloomy Sunday

versión al inglés
de Michael Robert White.
El original en castellano
fue publicado
en el número 3 de EOM.

Manuel Lozano
eom
Volver a Aire

 

 

 

 

 

 

11
mayo 2002

Manuel
 
  Lozano 


eom
Volver a Aire

Gemidos en la marca
de un árbol

 

A Silvina Ocampo

Silvina Ocampo


Ni al atardecer, ni en la mentira que huye,
ni siquiera en las semillas de mi infierno,
ni en las raíces que brotan
de los ojos hasta morirse delicadas
como un alto narciso o un amuleto,
está el caliente corazón,
ebrio y destejido en su hojarasca.
¿Pero era yo la harapienta de sangre?
¿La niña música
caminando entre los muertos?

 

 

París, abril de 2001

Manuel Lozano

inicio

volver a Aire

 

11
mayo 2002

Manuel
 
  Lozano 


eom
Volver a Aire
Gloomy Sunday

 

for Billie Holiday

 

Sundays yawn slack-jawed

like cattle skulls on garbage heaps.

What illusion is this of being wounded

to the last of my fogbound species?

(A puddle surrounds the bloody corpse,

bark scored with a runnel of ascending ants.)

Hang the empty flesh in plasters of anguish,

mooing like me before the desert void,

barely iridescent with witless death.

And where is the oracle cast,

the divine water of a god

clamoring for his gangrenous dream!

The wax melts between your teeth.

Astarte, my child What monster have you whelped?

A garland dangles from its beak.

Its wax is murky, denuded, veined with arteries.

Endless Sundays in a toad’s snout

overflow like coffins for moonless matrons.

Wherever can you evade your disguise,

your carriage boozing along

a throng of worms for your thighs?

He begged your spittle, meteor storms, flint stones.

On what bitter snack were your profiles engraved,

even as you ripped the splinters from your belly?

I have come to warn them.

For you have returned with your tinted mouth.

All Sundays have dazzling hooves,

leftover casseroles, asbestos forks,

saffron spoons/founts of wisdom,

crosses of straightened mirrors

above a recumbent child.

This voice burns from below.

As all the fairgoers know.

 

 

PARIS, JANUARY 1996 - BUENOS AIRES, MARCH 2OOO

Manuel Lozano
Adapted in English by Michael Robert White

inicio

volver a Aire