Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

León Gil

FISHER OF SUNS

Ah, my dear and hairless and headless and earless
Vincent Van Gogh
how the devil did it not occur to you
that one cannot be a great fisher of suns
without risking at the same time
at least a hand fortune love or an ear…

It being so dangerous to throw harpoons
against the dragons of the sky

And you
                 reckless
                                 hallucinating
                                                             compulsive
                                                                                    almost mad
pursuing the stars day and night
in the sky
                    in the sea
                                        and on land

to go out of there later
with your pockets full of suns
or disguised as a constellation
with 12 stars attached to your hat…

Abusing the sacred fire!
knowing perfectly
that when facing it
all wings and all hands
turn out to be wax

Poor Icarus
you have trapped the sun
and the sun has burned you up

PESCADOR DE SOLES

PESCADOR DE SOLES

Ah, mi querido y descabellado y descabezado y desorejado
Vincent Van Gogh
cómo diablos no se te ocurrió pensar
que no se puede ser un gran pescador de soles
sin arriesgar a la vez con ello
por lo menos una mano la fortuna el amor o una oreja…

Con lo peligroso que es lanzar arpones
contra los dragones del cielo

Y tú
           temerario
                               alucinado
                                                   compulsivo
                                                                          casi loco
persiguiendo a los astros día y noche
por el cielo
                     por el mar
                                          y por la tierra

para después salir por ahí
con los bolsillos llenos de soles
o disfrazado de constelación
con 12 estrellas prendidas en un sombrero…

¡Abusando del fuego sacro!
sabiendo perfectamente
que frente a él
todas las alas y todas las manos
resultan ser de cera

Pobre Ícaro
has atrapado al sol
y el sol te ha abrasado
Close

FISHER OF SUNS

Ah, my dear and hairless and headless and earless
Vincent Van Gogh
how the devil did it not occur to you
that one cannot be a great fisher of suns
without risking at the same time
at least a hand fortune love or an ear…

It being so dangerous to throw harpoons
against the dragons of the sky

And you
                 reckless
                                 hallucinating
                                                             compulsive
                                                                                    almost mad
pursuing the stars day and night
in the sky
                    in the sea
                                        and on land

to go out of there later
with your pockets full of suns
or disguised as a constellation
with 12 stars attached to your hat…

Abusing the sacred fire!
knowing perfectly
that when facing it
all wings and all hands
turn out to be wax

Poor Icarus
you have trapped the sun
and the sun has burned you up

FISHER OF SUNS

Ah, my dear and hairless and headless and earless
Vincent Van Gogh
how the devil did it not occur to you
that one cannot be a great fisher of suns
without risking at the same time
at least a hand fortune love or an ear…

It being so dangerous to throw harpoons
against the dragons of the sky

And you
                 reckless
                                 hallucinating
                                                             compulsive
                                                                                    almost mad
pursuing the stars day and night
in the sky
                    in the sea
                                        and on land

to go out of there later
with your pockets full of suns
or disguised as a constellation
with 12 stars attached to your hat…

Abusing the sacred fire!
knowing perfectly
that when facing it
all wings and all hands
turn out to be wax

Poor Icarus
you have trapped the sun
and the sun has burned you up
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