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from Alejándose avanza (Moving Away Move
Forward)
Three Poems by Ana Belén López
translated by Jen Hofer
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this circle | ||||
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was of the one | |||
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which died deaf, | ||||
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alone and | ||
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with doubts | ||||
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not of the one who drinks not | |
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of the other | |||
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the deaf one |
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tall and white | |||
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the dust one, | ||||
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the teeth |
and |
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the chamber of | ||||
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beginnings | ||||
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of this one is | |
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this circle | ||||
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colored yellow | ||||
from Blank Canvas of Return
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With a blank canvas I cover |
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my neck, |
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my mouth, |
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my eyes. |
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My face. |
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Not even I |
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remember myself now. |
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With the blank canvas I cover my images. |
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If not I who remembers? |
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Not even I. |
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I cover |
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my recollecting. |
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My memory, |
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with the blank canvas I cover also |
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my memory. |
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Between |
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the beginning of autumn and |
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the moon shimmying between days |
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I touch things |
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which exist and which don't | |||
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morning's cold ceramic, | |||
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parts of the soul |
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which escape into the air | |||
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things which repeat their names, |
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my name, without saying it | |||
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I hear voices which sing between the water and |
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fall between storms | |||
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drenching their rhythm, | |||
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their silence | |
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words of water | |||
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whistlings |
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that hurricanes | |||
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left in the distance | |||
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I chase |
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between the beginning of autumn | |||
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and each full moon | |||
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a light which touches a face | |||
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resting from desire | |||
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full of water, of truth. | |||
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My ear rests on the water |
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listens to the water | |||
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inside the water | |||
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perceives a quivering | ||||
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inside the water | |||
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the water is on my ear |
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inside my ear | |||||
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the quivering dozes. |
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As with words, | |||
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there are dreams of water, | |||
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dreams which contain | |||
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the ancient rite | |||
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which covers my head | |||
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the sound of water |
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explodes in my head |
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I dream that it stops | ||
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I dream that it explodes | ||
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against the water | |
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my eyelashes wet |
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open the light |
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the quivering ceases, | ||
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awake. | ||
The Lilacs
The patio was full of lilacs, lilacs everywhere, lilacs in the eyes, in the
hands, in the feet, lilacs stepped on, lilacs in the hair, in the air, in
the fragrance, green, brown, blue lilacs. The voice was lilac, the timbre
of the voice, the journey, time lilac.
Nostalgia lilac nostalgia lilac nostalgia lilac nostalgia.
The last departure: to walk, walk, walk towards the lilacs, to step on the
lilacs, lilac puddles, wet feet in the lilac puddles, again, again.
The last time lilac.
The lilacs fall always the lilacs fall.
They leave.
The lilacs leave.
[Note: Alejándose avanza (Moving Away Move Forward), by Ana Belén López, Fondo Editorial Tierra Adentro, Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes, México, D.F.: 1993. Ana Belén López was born in Mazatl·n, Sinaloa in 1961.]