As I am Jewish and mother is worth Easter, I will commemorate this day with the poetry of one of my favorite Peruvian poets, which fits the redundancy, the same name as this date:
(Courtesy of Urbanotopía)
BANDA NIGHT
The warriors of 80
Under the clear night burning the villages
headlights flashing on the dirty blue jean
youth are lost from corners and parks
chiaroscuro black and fluorescent jackets
between snow-white mist
skulls teeth and fingers blonde frosted blonde with pot
Their eyes shine like silver buckles
drums filled with oil-soaked squares and police
plush.
At night I go out. On the day I smell of tear gas, the crowd
absorbs me in its avocados
but I stop at the clarity of
breathing world without a cigarette on his lips / cold chills me
members and no place to rest for
the red ants carrying crumbs
bones / everything is surrounded by secluded benches
exhausted beasts / broken by the silence and the blue
shell that separates me from you, oh rickety land
.......................................... my body is only fleeting and opaque
wake of madness
.................................... ...... in the natural order
eternal dust without burial
.......... And the flowers and those guys seduced by dust in the order
Oh the plague of this century!
America is an acid, there are thousands of anguished
The law is cruel to say I did not survive the war unfinished
where my dedicated band of loggers fat
to demolish the columns of Justice, where they were just your huge
thighs / O Cecilia / your ass / your face
stalk and a hole in the heart after facing
police with an army of twisted metal that were our bones
after the fire on a highway
unreal that still throbbed and bled
the warm hearts of the horses who fell before us
despite his innocence /
their strong muscles of their ability to circumvent the difficulties that now support
when darkness
and panic reign of the beasts that rake /
approximate street by street / area by area teens covered with bodies of my gang
disaster that has tasted
before the sun cleared the cracks and debris that were subjected
. Oh
el deslumbramiento del horror! Mejor será largarnos
de esta ciudad a la que nunca pertenecimos
y ya no tengo banderas ni multitudes
Estoy perdido
.......... entre los edificios
.......... .......... .......... entre las calles
y bocacalles
.......... .......... entre los cerros y basurales
deambulando con tu imagen impregnada en mi mente
(y tú Sarita eres como un rockanrol en mi pecho
oliendo a pasta que consume mi banda pensando en ti
en el cielo que le ofreces por unas monedas)
¿Qué puedo hacer? llevo un amor a secas
que no me calma en el largo viaje por las
soft sand where I met you oh sweet Cecilia as chicha
you sang to me in those days when we banged
asaltábamos culeábamos destruíbamos and any
mat under the moon and the calm warm sea
curled in your shirt tag / everything ends and our enemies have managed
/ robbing the night we fucked
And only I'm falling / lightheadedness before breakfast and responsible
I write with difficulty
by the flickering candle I am condemned to death
/ have produced sea \u200b\u200b
my shadow I'm divinely desolate / my soul like a torrent
complaint and says expiring MATATA!
.......... .......... .......... .......... and mute stones rolled
on the streets like an army preparing an ambush
to daylight with traffic wardens and helicopters
paper. I stop / kick me out / I organized and vague in places and neighborhoods
demolishing the columns of the Justice fat while my band
away .......... .......... ground
.......... .......... .......... in smoke
.......... .......... .......... .......... powder
.......... .......... .......... .......... ..........
shadow .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... .......... in anything ...
(Del Espanto Architecture Paper published in Lima, 1988) ***
Chacalón
Because you throughout the day gently numb a pile
As a song by Paul Anka as a freak
useless as an action that moves your heart
homosexually
Through an anticipation that overrides any
You must have a passer who looks at you childishly
diagonally backwards to the plane and
A stranger in your strangeness
Clean lying and hairless as a nice walking
single, open front of the lens of a paparazzi and bitch
Arrested
Fractured entirely as the language of tribe vaporous
Displaced in the video clip
De Chacalón in the city
Music & soul of The Comas where these cycling
the ground fish In rabid choreography in the shade of larger trees While I
die in flamma childishly as a dog Lautréamont
Muero barely purposely tiled for your nipples to disintegrate
as pebbles in the mine black corners impossible
These
pita tops my fly Oh my ruca fly fly fly my
pacharacaza
between Indian red gravel that hill
now gray as your hair flying in the wind
brown-bizarre
lift your dress and your wandering way
and wash away your age
that shines tenderly
stones
You are my unwoven nausea
My smile Paracas
Giddy in my concavities
(From the book Golden Apocalypsis, 2004)
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