Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Piedad Bonnet

SAD MEN HAVE NO DANCING PARTNERS

Sad men frighten birds away.
Down to their pensive foreheads descend
the clouds
and dissolve into an opaque drizzle.
Flowers languish
in the gardens of the sad men.
Their precipices tempt death.
Whereas
the women that are within a woman
are all born at the same time
in front of the sad eyes of the sad men.
The woman vessel again opens her belly
and offers the sad man her redeeming milk.
The woman child kisses with fervor
his paternal, desolate widower’s  hands.
And she who walks silently in the house
shines his black hours and patches up
all the holes in his breast.
There is another that lends to the sad man  
her two hands as if they were wings.
But sad men are deaf to their music.
There is no lonelier woman then,
more sadly lonely,
than she who wants to love a sad man.

LOS HOMBRES TRISTES NO BAILAN EN PAREJAS

LOS HOMBRES TRISTES NO BAILAN EN PAREJAS

Los hombres tristes ahuyentan a los pájaros.
Hasta sus frentes pensativas bajan
las nubes
y se rompen en fina lluvia opaca.
Las flores agonizan
en los jardines de los hombres tristes.
Sus precipicios tientan a la muerte.
En cambio,
las mujeres que en una mujer hay
nacen a un tiempo todas
ante los ojos tristes de los tristes.
La mujer-cántaro abre otra vez su vientre
y le ofrece su leche redentora.
La mujer niña besa fervorosa
sus manos paternales de viudo desolado.
La de andar silencioso por la casa
lustra sus horas negras y remienda
los agujeros todos de su pecho.
Otra hay que al triste presta sus dos manos
como si fueran alas.
Pero los hombres tristes son sordos a sus músicas.
No hay pues mujer más sola,
más tristemente sola,
que la que quiere amar a un hombre triste.
Close

SAD MEN HAVE NO DANCING PARTNERS

Sad men frighten birds away.
Down to their pensive foreheads descend
the clouds
and dissolve into an opaque drizzle.
Flowers languish
in the gardens of the sad men.
Their precipices tempt death.
Whereas
the women that are within a woman
are all born at the same time
in front of the sad eyes of the sad men.
The woman vessel again opens her belly
and offers the sad man her redeeming milk.
The woman child kisses with fervor
his paternal, desolate widower’s  hands.
And she who walks silently in the house
shines his black hours and patches up
all the holes in his breast.
There is another that lends to the sad man  
her two hands as if they were wings.
But sad men are deaf to their music.
There is no lonelier woman then,
more sadly lonely,
than she who wants to love a sad man.

SAD MEN HAVE NO DANCING PARTNERS

Sad men frighten birds away.
Down to their pensive foreheads descend
the clouds
and dissolve into an opaque drizzle.
Flowers languish
in the gardens of the sad men.
Their precipices tempt death.
Whereas
the women that are within a woman
are all born at the same time
in front of the sad eyes of the sad men.
The woman vessel again opens her belly
and offers the sad man her redeeming milk.
The woman child kisses with fervor
his paternal, desolate widower’s  hands.
And she who walks silently in the house
shines his black hours and patches up
all the holes in his breast.
There is another that lends to the sad man  
her two hands as if they were wings.
But sad men are deaf to their music.
There is no lonelier woman then,
more sadly lonely,
than she who wants to love a sad man.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère