Rubor de luz - Blush of light - Bilingûal poetry

in #artzone5 years ago (edited)


La poesía nos hace tocar lo impalpable y escuchar la marea del silencio cubriendo un paisaje devastado por el insomnio.

Octavio Paz

Rubor de luz


Tardes largas e intermitentes
agonizan, heridas por el misterio.
En el crepúsculo,
entre la claridad nostálgica,
muriendo, la noche
camina en la oscuridad, a
tientas,
viajando por la ruta conocida
hacia el rubor de la luz
inventado
con polvo de satén dorado.
Estoy sosteniendo eternidades
de instantes.
Pendo de la nada cansada,
de la lucha enojada,
de lo mismo embrutecido.
Siento, como si una niñera
oscura estuviera
arruinando un sueño dorado.
Miro la estela del hilo de oro
de Ariadna, salvando a Teseo
del laberinto
y traicionada, luego.
Me despierto de pesadillas
fantasmales,
mi hilo sólo es un ovillo nudoso.
Tejerse en otro es lento.
Los colores confunden,
las líneas se pierden, se borran.
La del error está borrosa,
no sé si de tanto uso.
Mi alma atardece,
No es día ni noche.
Sólo es un paso
en un punto detenido
entre dos extremos,
como la vida,
como un dulce escape indeciso,
que por la mañana
va entrando en la noche.


photo-1543572085-4e676d1f3d6f.jpg

Poetry makes us touch the impalpable and listen to the tide of silence covering a landscape devastated by insomnia.

Octavio Paz

Blush of light


Long, intermittent afternoons
agonizing, wounded by mystery.
In the twilight,
between nostalgic clarity,
dying, the night
walk in the darkness,
groping.
Travelling along the known route
towards the blush of light
made-up
with golden satin powder.
I am sustaining eternities
of instants.
Pendo of the tired nothingness,
of the angry struggle
and brutalized.
I feel, as if a nanny
dark was
ruining a golden dream.
I look at the wake of the gold thread
of Ariadne, saving Theseus
in the maze
and then betrayed by him.
I waking up from nightmares
with ghosts,
my thread is just a knotty ball.
Weaving into another is slow.
Colors confuse,
the lines are lost, they're erased.
The error line is blurred,
I don't know if it's so much use.
My soul is getting dark,
It's neither day nor night.
It's only one step away,
at a standstill
between two extremes,
like life,
like a sweet escape indecisive,
that in the morning
is going into the night.




Written by Zeleira Cordero @zeleiracordero.

01/12/18

Photo by Ben Dutton on Unsplash

Separator:
Cat

For your kind reading... Thanks!





/Posted from my blog with https://wordpress.org/plugins/steempress/SteemPresshttp://zeleiracordero.vornix.blog/2018/12/01/rubor-de-luz-blush-of-light-bilingual-poetry/

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