Bailar en la boca del rumor
no es motivo de orgullo sino de espanto,
estoy aquí pero también estoy en aquella tarde
en aquel juicio
y sin ser yo quien elige desdoblarse.
Cuando solicito alguna forma de ubicuidad
me inclino por la metafísica de lo onírico
el viaje astral que aun no logro emprender
(pero atisbo en rachas de imprecisa lucidez)
detrás de la puerta que centinelan los fantasmas.
Entonces me busco y el temblor es exacto
y a la vez difuso,
me encuentro mareado
en algún falso Aleph que ha sido doblemente ultrajado:
sólo contiene mis sombras
y es difícil discernir
todo lo que veo como un reflejo de mi alma;
creí encontrarte y era yo
creí ver la luz y eran instantes.
Lo vertiginoso en su máxima expresión
era esa fatal omnipresencia
incluso en lugares insólitos que no…
Como en la boca del rumor, de aquella tarde,
en el pensamiento inesperado,
en proyecciones de mi pasado
Y entendí
o quizás recordé
que yo también estaba hecho
de palabras,
de imágenes
-y, ¿por qué no?-
de bailes.
A humble-english-version:
To dance in the mouth of the rumour
It is not a motive of pride but of fright,
I am here but I am also in that afternoon
in that judgment
and it is not me
the one who is choosing to unfold.
When I request some form of ubiquity
I lean towards the metaphysics of the oneiric
the astral journey that I still can not undertake
(but I glimpse in streaks of vague lucidity)
behind the door that the ghosts sentinel.
So I look for myself and the tremor is exact
and at the same time diffuse,
I find myself dizzy
in some spurious-Aleph that has been double outraged:
It only contains my shadows
and it is difficult to discern
everything I see as a reflection of my soul;
I thought I found you, and it was me
I thought I saw the light, and they were merely instants.
The vertiginous in its maximum expression
was that fatal omnipresence
even in unusual places where i have never...
As in the mouth of the rumour that afternoon,
in the unexpected thought,
in projections of my past
And then I understood
(or shall I say 'I remembered'?)
that I was also made
of words,
of pictures
-and why not?-
of dances.
Haha I love the poem and the picture. Who's the author?
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I am the autor of both of them, dear friend
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