Del Libro Las cenizas de la insomne (Inédito)
Bajo el cerezo de mis juegos de niña
oculté mi primera gota de sangre
herrumbrosa entre el papel,
la até con una cinta del costurero de mi madre
clavé las manos sobre la tierra una y otra vez
Era consciente del dolor, de su secreto
de mi devoción por silencio.
Under the cherry tree of my childhood games
I hid my first drop of blood
rusty in a piece of paper.
I tied it with a ribbon from my mother’ s sewing kit
I hammered my hands on the earth over and over again
I was aware of the pain, of its secret
of my devotion for silence.
El aire en la hoja del árbol no es el mismo todos los días
el aire acuna la hoja cada día, hasta asfixiarla y resbalar.
En tierra negra la hoja repta hasta desparecer.
El aire no miente, el olvido sí.
The air in the tree’s leaf is not the same every day
the air mints the leaf each time until it becomes smothered and then glides .
On the dark earth the leaf creeps until it disappears.
The air does not lie, forgetting does.
Las piernas se estiraron bajo la manta, el cabello y las caderas seguían el mismo camino. Una niña se perdía construyendo el cordel para un lobo codiciaba la vida salvaje, alentaba la hierba con la voz.
Legs stretched out under the blanket, hair and thighs following the same path. A girl was losing herself making string for a wolf who hungered for the savage life, encouraging the grass with her voice.
Del libro Círculo de los Ojos tristes (2017)
JUEGO
SIENTO que no estoy destinada
al mundo oculto de los retratistas
he apagado las lámparas
para observar con minucia
como el ratón mueve la cola la cola
al ser alcanzado por la trampa
GAME
I FEEL that I am not destined
for the hidden world of the portrait painters
I have put out the lamps
to observe minutely
how the mouse moves its tail its tail
on being reached by the trap.
EXILIOS
¿ Y esos juguetes malsanos quebrando la luz?
Abatida belleza
¡exiliada!
Humana-cripta
Humano arcilla- hueso
¡Ten cuidado¡
con los pedazos de leche negra goteando
en la hora del sueño
son los objetos perdidos de la infancia
EXILES
And these unhealthy toys breaking the light?
Beauty knocked down
exiled!
Human-crypt
Human clay-bone
Be careful
with pieces of black milk dropping
in your hour of sleep
objects lost from childhood
Indran Amirthanayagam writes poetry in English, Spanish, French, Portuguese, and Haitian Creole. He is the author of twenty three books of poetry and poetry in translation, including Origami: Selected Poems of Manuel Ulacia, Blue Window (Dialogos Books) The Migrant States (Hanging Loose Press 2020),Coconuts on Mars (Paperwall, 2019), Uncivil War (Mawenzi House (formerly TSAR), Canada, 2013), and the Paterson Prize-winning The Elephants of Reckoning (Hanging Loose, 1993). Amirthanayagam is a 2020 Foundation for Contemporary Arts fellow in poetry, and a past fellow of the New York Foundation for the Arts, the US/Mexico Fund for Culture, and the MacDowell Colony. He edits The Beltway Poetry Quarterly; curates the reading series Poetry at Beltway Editions, and publishes poetry books with Sara Cahill Marron at Beltway Editions. He serves on the Board of DC-ALT. His blog is http://indranamirthanayagam.blogspot.com
Lilian Silva is a reader and promoter of reading and writing; cultural organizer and founder of the collective Las desobedientes and the cinema club La Caja Pandora; curator of www.ablucionistas.com, a literary platform of art and literature. Won a prize for the best rock chronicle in 2016, Silva published her first book Circulo de los ojos tristes in 2017. This was illustrated by the Argentine artist Santiago Caruso. She is planning to publish her second poetry book Las cenizas de la insomne in 2020.