Los episodios negros de la historia siempre aparecen o rebrotan. Surgen personajes que quieren apropiarse del mundo porque creen haber soñado con las tablas de la verdad. Tozuda, malignamente destruyen miradas, restringen las pisadas, entierran sueños, muelen esqueletos … toda una liturgia de la oscuridad. Nunca logran comprender que ninguno sobrevive con honor y gloria, con la respetabilidad de la humanidad.
I woke up with a feeling
to change the light in this garden.
But all I could find you trying to land
in my secrets with your big jaw.
I see your shape undulating in a swamp
And the composition in the bottom of your eyes.
Not in vain I dig to find the way
To true waves
And with a needle mends the broken pieces
An anchor was thrown into the flesh of your figure.
You are the one that does not recognize
the fly of a bird and only the Wasteland.
Yes, you, carboniferous man,
There’s nothing in your story that’s human.
You always ride dirty railways through obscure corners.
Coward, you ran down to ruinous walls
Look at the shades that darkened the twilight (see the
Shades that darkened at twilight)
Look at all the tracks on the sidewalk of power (look at all the tracks
Of power)
In your dream where the penumbra still lies (in the dream where
Still, lies the gloom).
I blow your fire with the smell of
Sacred wine, imploring for an eighth
Day.
- El virus nos dejó en blanco, un poema de Eduardo Escalante - marzo 27, 2020
- El mal no se levantó del infierno, un poema de Eduardo Escalante - marzo 20, 2020
- Escribiendo cosas en silencio, un poema de Eduardo Escalante - marzo 6, 2020
