Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Carlos Obregón

Towards the future I go broadly speaking

Towards the future I go broadly speaking
with the smoke of the sun and the seagulls.
The night twists another bend
and an implausible moon is dying
like a white charm that stalks me.
On the pier a bell withdraws
with a double lament of distance
that spreads sea wings on the eyes.
The flower migrates and is ill.
Night shimmers in the waves
leaving in the ears
its vigil of stars and poppies.
From oblivion comes up to the lips
a dim smell of clods and cereal pollen.
The summer bites the most remote fruits
and a horse’s eye looks at them and covets them.

So much world without body or inhabitant,
so many mortal footsteps tonight.

Towards the future I go broadly speaking

Hacia mañana voy a grandes rasgos
con el humo del sol y las gaviotas.
Tuerce la noche otro recodo
y agoniza una luna inverosímil
como blanco conjuro que me acecha.  
En los muelles se aleja una campana
con un doble lamento de distancia
que tiende alas de mar sobre los ojos.
La flor emigra y adolece.
Reverbera la noche entre las olas
dejando en los oídos
su vigilia de astros y amapolas.
Desde el olvido sube hasta los labios
un  turbio olor de gleba y polen de cereales.
Muerde el estío los frutos más remotos
y el ojo de un caballo los mira y los desea.

¡Tanto mundo sin cuerpo ni habitante,
tanta huella mortal en esta noche!
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Towards the future I go broadly speaking

Towards the future I go broadly speaking
with the smoke of the sun and the seagulls.
The night twists another bend
and an implausible moon is dying
like a white charm that stalks me.
On the pier a bell withdraws
with a double lament of distance
that spreads sea wings on the eyes.
The flower migrates and is ill.
Night shimmers in the waves
leaving in the ears
its vigil of stars and poppies.
From oblivion comes up to the lips
a dim smell of clods and cereal pollen.
The summer bites the most remote fruits
and a horse’s eye looks at them and covets them.

So much world without body or inhabitant,
so many mortal footsteps tonight.

Towards the future I go broadly speaking

Towards the future I go broadly speaking
with the smoke of the sun and the seagulls.
The night twists another bend
and an implausible moon is dying
like a white charm that stalks me.
On the pier a bell withdraws
with a double lament of distance
that spreads sea wings on the eyes.
The flower migrates and is ill.
Night shimmers in the waves
leaving in the ears
its vigil of stars and poppies.
From oblivion comes up to the lips
a dim smell of clods and cereal pollen.
The summer bites the most remote fruits
and a horse’s eye looks at them and covets them.

So much world without body or inhabitant,
so many mortal footsteps tonight.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère