Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

María Mercedes Carranza

I’m afraid

Look at me: fear inhabits me.
Behind these serene eyes, in this body that loves: fear.
Fear at dawn for inevitably the sun will rise and I’ll have to see it,
when the sun sets because it might not come out tomorrow.
I watch the mysterious noises of this house that crumbles,
the ghosts, the shadows surround me and I’m afraid.
I make sure to sleep with the light on
and I get my hands on spears, shields, illusions.
But then perhaps it takes only a stain on the tablecloth
and again terror overcomes me.
Nothing calms me, nothing soothes me:
neither this useless word, nor the passion of love,
not even the mirror where I can already see my dead face.
Listen carefully, I shout it: I’m afraid.

Tengo miedo

Tengo miedo

Miradme: en mí habita el miedo.
Tras estos ojos serenos, en este cuerpo que ama: el miedo.
El miedo al amanecer porque inevitable el sol saldrá y he de verlo,
cuando atardece porque puede no salir mañana.
Vigilo los ruidos misteriosos de esta casa que se derrumba,
ya los fantasmas, las sombras me cercan y tengo miedo.
Procuro dormir con la luz encendida
y me hago como puedo a lanzas, corazas, ilusiones.
Pero basta quizás sólo una mancha en el mantel
para que de nuevo se adueñe de mí el espanto.
Nada me calma ni sosiega:
ni esta palabra inútil, ni esta pasión de amor,
ni el espejo donde veo ya mi rostro muerto.
Oídme bien, lo digo a gritos: tengo miedo.
Close

I’m afraid

Look at me: fear inhabits me.
Behind these serene eyes, in this body that loves: fear.
Fear at dawn for inevitably the sun will rise and I’ll have to see it,
when the sun sets because it might not come out tomorrow.
I watch the mysterious noises of this house that crumbles,
the ghosts, the shadows surround me and I’m afraid.
I make sure to sleep with the light on
and I get my hands on spears, shields, illusions.
But then perhaps it takes only a stain on the tablecloth
and again terror overcomes me.
Nothing calms me, nothing soothes me:
neither this useless word, nor the passion of love,
not even the mirror where I can already see my dead face.
Listen carefully, I shout it: I’m afraid.

I’m afraid

Look at me: fear inhabits me.
Behind these serene eyes, in this body that loves: fear.
Fear at dawn for inevitably the sun will rise and I’ll have to see it,
when the sun sets because it might not come out tomorrow.
I watch the mysterious noises of this house that crumbles,
the ghosts, the shadows surround me and I’m afraid.
I make sure to sleep with the light on
and I get my hands on spears, shields, illusions.
But then perhaps it takes only a stain on the tablecloth
and again terror overcomes me.
Nothing calms me, nothing soothes me:
neither this useless word, nor the passion of love,
not even the mirror where I can already see my dead face.
Listen carefully, I shout it: I’m afraid.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère