Poem
Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
THE BOOK OF WATER
I will never stop pursuing you, sacred delirium. Not even when the peace of the unjust comes. Nor when I awaken in the darkness among the rubble of desire.It is not in fire, not even in the earth, where time has written: I know its fugitive book.
All that I pretend to sing does not belong to life.
The tide goes on asking and I give rise to darknesses, until someone hands me over its limits.
I go on searching what I searched.
I don’t know whether the poem is useful against fear. I don’t know if some day there will be someone who can love those who reign. I don’t know if man will go on officiating at devastated altars.
But we shall begin to retrieve everything that silence owes us. We shall share our thirst.
The true deprivation is what leads us to the origin. Light is so recent.
My words fall like seed. My eyes have been sown. Here on my side, in this populous desert, someone ignores the hand needed to die.
© Translation: 2008, Nicolás Suescún
EL LIBRO DEL AGUA
EL LIBRO DEL AGUA
Nunca dejaré de perseguirte, sagrado delirio. Ni cuando advenga la paz de los injustos. Ni cuando despierte en la oscuridad entre escombros del deseo.No es en el fuego, ni siquiera en la tierra, donde ha escrito el tiempo: conozco su libro fugitivo.
Todo lo que pretendo cantar no pertenece a la vida.
La marea sigue preguntando y yo suscito oscuridades, hasta que alguien me entregue sus límites.
Todavía busco lo que buscaba.
No sé si el poema sirve contra el miedo. No sé si algún día existirá quien pueda amar a los que reinan. No sé si el hombre seguirá oficiando en altares devastados.
Pero comenzaremos por cobrar todo lo que nos adeuda el silencio. Compartiremos nuestra sed.
El verdadero despojamiento es el que conduce al origen. La luz es tan reciente...
Mis palabras caen como semillas. Mis ojos ya han sido sembrados.
Aquí a mi lado, en este desierto populoso, alguien desconoce la mano que se necesita para morir.
© 2005, Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
Publisher: Los Conjurados, Bogotá
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
Publisher: Los Conjurados, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of Gonzalo Márquez Cristo
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THE BOOK OF WATER
I will never stop pursuing you, sacred delirium. Not even when the peace of the unjust comes. Nor when I awaken in the darkness among the rubble of desire.It is not in fire, not even in the earth, where time has written: I know its fugitive book.
All that I pretend to sing does not belong to life.
The tide goes on asking and I give rise to darknesses, until someone hands me over its limits.
I go on searching what I searched.
I don’t know whether the poem is useful against fear. I don’t know if some day there will be someone who can love those who reign. I don’t know if man will go on officiating at devastated altars.
But we shall begin to retrieve everything that silence owes us. We shall share our thirst.
The true deprivation is what leads us to the origin. Light is so recent.
My words fall like seed. My eyes have been sown. Here on my side, in this populous desert, someone ignores the hand needed to die.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
From: Oscuro Nacimiento
THE BOOK OF WATER
I will never stop pursuing you, sacred delirium. Not even when the peace of the unjust comes. Nor when I awaken in the darkness among the rubble of desire.It is not in fire, not even in the earth, where time has written: I know its fugitive book.
All that I pretend to sing does not belong to life.
The tide goes on asking and I give rise to darknesses, until someone hands me over its limits.
I go on searching what I searched.
I don’t know whether the poem is useful against fear. I don’t know if some day there will be someone who can love those who reign. I don’t know if man will go on officiating at devastated altars.
But we shall begin to retrieve everything that silence owes us. We shall share our thirst.
The true deprivation is what leads us to the origin. Light is so recent.
My words fall like seed. My eyes have been sown. Here on my side, in this populous desert, someone ignores the hand needed to die.
© 2008, Nicolás Suescún
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