martes, 27 de octubre de 2009

Al final...

Al final,

Donde se unan todos los mares,

Y nuestro cuerpo ya no alcance,

para saber que nuestras palabras

dijeron lo mismo.



by Adrienne Rich

The world's

not wanton
only wild and wavering

I wanted to choose words that even you
would have to be changed by

Take the word
of my pulse, loving and ordinary
Send out your signals, hoist
your dark scribbled flags
but take
my hand

All wars are useless to the dead

My hands are knotted in the rope
and I cannot sound the bell

My hands are frozen to the switch
and I cannot throw it

The foot is in the wheel

When it's finished and we're lying
in a stubble of blistered flowers
eyes gaping, mouths staring
dusted with crushed arterial blues

I'll have done nothing
even for you?

1 comentario:

leandro quintero dijo...

STUDY IN a LATE SUBWAY(muriel rukeyser)

the moon revolves outside;possibly,black air
turns so around them facing night's concave,
momentum the slogan of the hurling brains
swung into speed,crying for stillness high
suspended and rising on time's wave.

did these tracks have a wilder life in the ground?
beaten from streams of metal in secret earth:
energy travels along the veins of steel,
their faces rush fordward,missiles of discontent
throw vaguely to the south and north.

that head is jointed loosely on his neck,
his glossy eyes turn on the walls and floor:
her face is a blank breast with sorrow
spouting at the mouth's nipple.All eyes move
heavily to the opening door,

regarding in dullnes how we also enter.
An angle of track charges up to us,swings
out and past in a firework of signals.
Sleeply others dangle by one hand
tense and semi-crucified things.

speed welcomes us in explosions of night: here
is wrath and fortitude and motion's burning:
the world buries the directionless,until
the heads are sprung in awareness or drowned in peace.
sleep will happen. we must give them morning.