Poems

Tell me, is the rose naked Or is that her only dress? Why do trees concealThe splendor of their roots? Who hears the regretsOf the thieving automobile? Is there anything in the world sadderThan a train standing in the rain?

If suddenly you do not exist,if suddenly you no longer live,I shall live on. I do not dare,I do not dare to write it,if you die. I shall live on. For where a man has no voice,there, my voice. Where blacks are beaten,I cannot be dead.When my brothers go to prisonI shall go with them. … Read more

An odor has remained among the sugarcane:a mixture of blood and body, a penetratingpetal that brings nausea.Between the coconut palms the graves are fullof ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles.The delicate dictator is talkingwith top hats, gold braid, and collars.The tiny palace gleams like a watchand the rapid laughs with gloves oncross the corridors at timesand … Read more

This day, Today, was a brimming glass.This day, Today, was an immense wave.This day was all the Earth.This day, the storm-driven oceanlifted us up in a kissso exalted we trembledat the lightning flashand bound as one, fell,and drowned, without being unbound.This day our bodies grewstretched out to Earth’s limits,orbited there, melded thereto one globe of … Read more

They all ask me to jumpto invigorate and to play soccer, to run, to swim and to fly. Very well. They all advise me rest, they all send me to the doctor, looking at me a certain way. What happens? They all advise me to travel, to come and to leave, to stay, to die … Read more

My eyes went away from meFollowing a dark girl who went by. She was made of black motherofpearlMade of darkpurple grapes,And she lashed my bloodWith her tail of fire. After them all I go. A pale blonde went byLike a golden plantSwaying her gifts.And my mouth wentLike a waveDischarging on her breastLightningbolts of blood. After … Read more

Writingtheseodesin thisyear nineteenhundred andfifty-five,readying and tuningmy demanding, murmuring lyre,I know who I amand where my song is going.I understandthat the shopper for mythsand mysteriesmay entermy woodand adobehouse of odes,may despisethe utensils,the portraitsof father and mother and countryon the walls,the simplicityof the breadand the saltcellar. Butthat’s how it is in my house of odes.I deposed the … Read more

From your hips down to your feetI want to make a long journey. I am smaller than an insect. Over these hills I pass,hills the colour of oats,crossed with faint tracksthat only I know,scorched centimetres,pale perspectives. Now here is a mountain.I shall never leave this.What a giant growth of moss!And a crater, a roseof moist … Read more

The light wraps you in its mortal flame. Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way against the old propellers of the twighlight that revolves around you. Speechless, my friend, alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead and filled with the lives of fire, pure heir of the ruined day. A bough of fruit … Read more

I’m Ramón González Barbagelata from anywhere, from Cucuy, from Paraná, from Rio Turbio, from Oruro, from Maracaibo, from Parral, from Ovalle, from Loconmilla, I’m the poor devil from the poor Third World, I’m the third-class passenger installed, good God! in the lavish whiteness of snow-covered mountains, concealed among orchids of subtle idiosyncrasy. I’ve arrived at … Read more