Woodcut by Jean Charlot

      I presented my ticket
to the far horizons
when the city disintegrated by telegram
                we probed with our
                        fiery arms
                the walls of the tunnels
as a lost locomotive
moaned for help from afar
                 its message raking memory
        over the 400 kilometers of absence
at last
the cloistered silent streets´
shadows cracked
              our ancient steps

     Silence snagged the avenues
with their insomniac voices
                  the night broke in two
colapsing on its name
    among the ruins of time
only I have  systole and diastole
    my limitless path has no hour
                  AND
                 vainly
a lovelorn smelter
lengthens the
                    I N F I N I T E
by 13
 

     that spectral clock
on the wall
drew HER shadow
sinking my loneliness into the blameless
                             beds
                             of
                             HOTELS!
the frothy songs of pianolas
taste of saturday nights
     in front of imploring votive
            candles
that dowse the remaining stars
      WHAT BATTALION OF GIANTS
      HAS TAKEN TO THE STREETS
      TO SHOUT THEIR DEFEAT?
                     quiet for tonight
                     life may catch on
                     to what you're up to

     out of the foamy shadows
her unhinged steps
place on the phonograph
the same hour for the past
                               3,000 years
and it smells of distances
between fallen kisses
in our assigned seats
of
   sleeplessness
Oh why didn't I buy your laughter
if you were dispensing the night
on credit?
let me ask the balcony for alms

     my return to the park is
hampered
by the ritual book
           unread
in the alley of our tryst
it leans against the balcony
of silence
and
the clamors of love's perfumes
climb
the tortured architecture

     in an unending spiral
screams fall
from the proximity
     the last chimneys of illusion
harboring the threat
                  from
                  the pitiless sky
and there
behind the wall
of her good-bye
a condemned horizon
hangs over the final refrain

a song
fallen from her arms
walking slowly from the depths
                                of her name
like a window on an adventure
quivering on a landscape
raked
          by the headlamps
          of errant trucks
as radio waves
encumber
her farewell
                     a TRAIN
                     splits the night
                     with its howl
unctioning
the spineless distance
 

(Translated by Ben Tarver with permission from Germán List Arzubide)
 
 

Ambitious frontiers
trodden by
failing memories
                Where have ambition
                and glory fled?
                ISLANDS OF PASTS
                FATHERLANDS OF FUTURES

To bluster atop the wicked
pedestal of time
and watch set sail the ships
                 and days
                 pennanting
                 inhospitable wakes
                 where drift
                 the names
                 that affection
                                RECALLS DAY BY DAY