from Alejándose avanza (Moving Away Move Forward)
Three Poems by Ana Belén López
translated by Jen Hofer





Circle


this circle
colored yellow

was of the one

which died deaf,
alone and

in debt


not of the one who drinks not

of the other

the deaf one

tall and white

the dust one,

the teethand

the chamber of

beginnings

of this one is

this circle
colored yellow




from Blank Canvas of Return


With a blank canvas I cover
my neck,
my mouth,
my eyes.
My face.

Not even I
remember myself now.

With the blank canvas I cover my images.

If not I who remembers?
Not even I.

I cover
my recollecting.

My memory,
with the blank canvas I cover also
my memory.

Between
the beginning of autumn and
the moon shimmying between days

I touch things
which exist and which don't
morning's cold ceramic,
parts of the soul
which escape into the air

things which repeat their names,
my name, without saying it

I hear voices which sing between the water and
fall between storms
drenching their rhythm,
their silence

words of water
whistlings
that hurricanes
left in the distance






I chase

between the beginning of autumn
and each full moon

a light which touches a face
resting from desire

full of water, of truth.


My ear rests on the water

listens to the water
inside the water

perceives a quivering
inside the water

the water is on my ear
inside my ear

the quivering dozes.


As with words,
there are dreams of water,

dreams which contain
the ancient rite

which covers my head

the sound of water
explodes in my head

I dream that it stops
I dream that it explodes

against the water

my eyelashes wet
open the light

the quivering ceases,
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.]