Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Eduardo Gómez

DAWN (I)

The street-dweller is made
of doves in flight and withered dreams;
of colorless dawns and warm bodies,
the retreat to his refuge.
A generous smell of semen
a thick air of secret respirations
surrounds his messy bed
when the flute induces abandonment
and the travelling night withdraws.
The bitter tenderness of vomit
and the blue angels with bags under their eyes
float in the fire of his feverish breath.
Outside
the day hammers in the factories
trains deflower the transparent morning
and the aroma of fresh bread
gets mixed up with the moist smell of the markets.
It is the diamond day
eternal in its swaying and brimming with questions
walking with rough boots
on the tombstone over the lone sleeper.

AMANECER (I)

AMANECER (I)

De palomas en fuga y marchitos sueños
está hecha la substancia del habitante de las calles,
de amaneceres descoloridos y cálidos cuerpos
el retiro a su refugio.
Un olor generoso a semen
un aire espeso de respiraciones secretas
rodea su lecho revuelto
cuando la flauta convida al abandono
y la noche viajera se aleja.
La amarga ternura del vómito
y los ángeles azules de ojeras
flotan en el fuego de su aliento de fiebre.
Afuera
el día martillea en las fábricas
los trenes desfloran la mañana transparente
y el aroma del pan fresco
se confunde con el húmedo olor de los mercados.
Es el día de diamante
eterno en su vaivén y rebosante de preguntas
caminando con ásperas botas
sobre la losa que cubre al solitario durmiente en su tumba.
Close

DAWN (I)

The street-dweller is made
of doves in flight and withered dreams;
of colorless dawns and warm bodies,
the retreat to his refuge.
A generous smell of semen
a thick air of secret respirations
surrounds his messy bed
when the flute induces abandonment
and the travelling night withdraws.
The bitter tenderness of vomit
and the blue angels with bags under their eyes
float in the fire of his feverish breath.
Outside
the day hammers in the factories
trains deflower the transparent morning
and the aroma of fresh bread
gets mixed up with the moist smell of the markets.
It is the diamond day
eternal in its swaying and brimming with questions
walking with rough boots
on the tombstone over the lone sleeper.

DAWN (I)

The street-dweller is made
of doves in flight and withered dreams;
of colorless dawns and warm bodies,
the retreat to his refuge.
A generous smell of semen
a thick air of secret respirations
surrounds his messy bed
when the flute induces abandonment
and the travelling night withdraws.
The bitter tenderness of vomit
and the blue angels with bags under their eyes
float in the fire of his feverish breath.
Outside
the day hammers in the factories
trains deflower the transparent morning
and the aroma of fresh bread
gets mixed up with the moist smell of the markets.
It is the diamond day
eternal in its swaying and brimming with questions
walking with rough boots
on the tombstone over the lone sleeper.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère