Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Jairo Guzmán

OUR BED IS A BANK OF WITCHCRAFT AND SPELLS

We are a dragon
creeping along the road

Drunk with insomnia
we drag along pots
and rags

Life that is bogged down
among skeletons
of children and dogs

*

These tempests
stabs of lightning that illuminate
the devastated fields
A night of tortures
is revealed to us
with its rictus mortis

What black hand
dismembers our
children?

*

And those men
totally deformed
by their grimaces
when they hit us
to the point of smashing our eyes
When they put on the rope
and slowly pull it tight
until they strangle us

Those mercenaries
were our neighbors
As children they played
with our siblings
and even shared our meals

Look how they massacre us!

NUESTRO LECHO ES UNA RIBERA DE MALEFICIO Y RÁFAGA

NUESTRO LECHO ES UNA RIBERA DE MALEFICIO Y RÁFAGA

Somos un dragón
que serpea los caminos

Borrachos de insomnio
arrastramos tiestos
y harapos

Vida que se atasca
entre esqueletos
de niños y perros

*

Esas tempestades
relámpagos que alumbran
los campos arrasados
Noche de las torturas
se nos revela
con sus rictus mortis

¿Qué mano negra
desmiembra a nuestros
hijos?

*

Y esos hombres
totalmente deformados
en sus gesticulaciones
cuando nos golpean
hasta reventarnos los ojos
Cuando nos colocan la soga
y van tensando lentamente
hasta ahorcarnos

Esos mercenarios
eran nuestros vecinos
Jugaban cuando niños
con nuestros hermanos
y hasta comían en nuestro propio plato

¡Míralos cómo nos masacran!
Close

OUR BED IS A BANK OF WITCHCRAFT AND SPELLS

We are a dragon
creeping along the road

Drunk with insomnia
we drag along pots
and rags

Life that is bogged down
among skeletons
of children and dogs

*

These tempests
stabs of lightning that illuminate
the devastated fields
A night of tortures
is revealed to us
with its rictus mortis

What black hand
dismembers our
children?

*

And those men
totally deformed
by their grimaces
when they hit us
to the point of smashing our eyes
When they put on the rope
and slowly pull it tight
until they strangle us

Those mercenaries
were our neighbors
As children they played
with our siblings
and even shared our meals

Look how they massacre us!

OUR BED IS A BANK OF WITCHCRAFT AND SPELLS

We are a dragon
creeping along the road

Drunk with insomnia
we drag along pots
and rags

Life that is bogged down
among skeletons
of children and dogs

*

These tempests
stabs of lightning that illuminate
the devastated fields
A night of tortures
is revealed to us
with its rictus mortis

What black hand
dismembers our
children?

*

And those men
totally deformed
by their grimaces
when they hit us
to the point of smashing our eyes
When they put on the rope
and slowly pull it tight
until they strangle us

Those mercenaries
were our neighbors
As children they played
with our siblings
and even shared our meals

Look how they massacre us!
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère