Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Eduardo Cote Lamus

JUSTICE

I suffered the light, had a forehead
like a newly-made morning;
then came the shadow and planted in me,
without my noticing, the bitter sign:
words would thereafter be
a vision of the world pulled down
in dreams; one must sing
because a new Cain is being a poet.
I sold myself as a slave in order for
my master to govern my actions;
it so happens that love made me more alone
and my master couldn’t bear his guilt.
Lazy freedman, yes, manumitted
from myself; a shadow I am of what is real;
but neither can I realize
what is happening around me.
The bad thing is feeling the dream pass
through eyes and chest
and not being able to tell what happens.
Yes: for this word I am writing
I will be later tried, executed;
no defence against death will be
my task of telling, of saying things,
this dying in each word, this
seeing ashes where life is.

LA JUSTICIA

LA JUSTICIA

Yo padecía la luz, tenía la frente
igual que una mañana recién hecha;
luego vino la sombra y me sembró
sin darme cuenta la señal amarga:
las palabras serían desde entonces
una visión del mundo derribado
en sueños; uno tiene que cantar
porque un nuevo Caín es ser poeta.
Me vendí como esclavo para que
mi dueño manejara mis acciones;
resulta que el amor me hizo más solo
y mi amo no podía con sus culpas.
Liberto vago, sí, manumitido
de mí; la sombra soy de lo real;
pero tampoco puedo darme cuenta
de qué es lo que transcurre en mi contorno.
Lo malo es sentir que pasa el sueño
a través de los ojos y del pecho
y no poder decir lo que sucede.
Sí: por esta palabra que yo escribo
seré después juzgado, ajusticiado;
no me defenderán contra la muerte
mi labor de contar, de decir cosas,
el ir muriendo en cada letra, de
ver cenizas donde está la vida.
Close

JUSTICE

I suffered the light, had a forehead
like a newly-made morning;
then came the shadow and planted in me,
without my noticing, the bitter sign:
words would thereafter be
a vision of the world pulled down
in dreams; one must sing
because a new Cain is being a poet.
I sold myself as a slave in order for
my master to govern my actions;
it so happens that love made me more alone
and my master couldn’t bear his guilt.
Lazy freedman, yes, manumitted
from myself; a shadow I am of what is real;
but neither can I realize
what is happening around me.
The bad thing is feeling the dream pass
through eyes and chest
and not being able to tell what happens.
Yes: for this word I am writing
I will be later tried, executed;
no defence against death will be
my task of telling, of saying things,
this dying in each word, this
seeing ashes where life is.

JUSTICE

I suffered the light, had a forehead
like a newly-made morning;
then came the shadow and planted in me,
without my noticing, the bitter sign:
words would thereafter be
a vision of the world pulled down
in dreams; one must sing
because a new Cain is being a poet.
I sold myself as a slave in order for
my master to govern my actions;
it so happens that love made me more alone
and my master couldn’t bear his guilt.
Lazy freedman, yes, manumitted
from myself; a shadow I am of what is real;
but neither can I realize
what is happening around me.
The bad thing is feeling the dream pass
through eyes and chest
and not being able to tell what happens.
Yes: for this word I am writing
I will be later tried, executed;
no defence against death will be
my task of telling, of saying things,
this dying in each word, this
seeing ashes where life is.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère