Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Santiago Mutis Durán

COLOMBIA TODAY

The days of the Colony have come back again:
martyred figures abandoned in the semidarkness
in the endless timeless galleries
in the rarefied atmosphere of the temples

Tense rays of light fall like darts
like choirs like presages
that all or nothing is the same

and the man – the flesh the body  –
suffers
crucified to such a  lie
Something loves us and destroys us
the world without landscapes without tears;
only grimaces captivity tortures
ecstasies shams hell
emptiness . . .

A caress
           strips us
                        deforms us
damned
like a dark tender
flower
that desires and rejects us.

Colombia hoy

Colombia hoy

Han vuelto otra vez los días de la Colonia:
figuras martirizadas abandonadas a la penumbra
a las interminables galerías sin tiempo
a la atmósfera enrarecida de los templos

Tensos rayos de luz descienden como saetas
como coros como presagios
de que todo y nada son lo mismo

y el hombre – la carne el cuerpo –
sufre
crucificado a semejante mentira
Algo nos ama y nos destruye
el mundo sin paisajes sin lágrimas;
sólo gestos cautiverio suplicios
éxtasis simulacros infierno
vacío . . .

Una caricia
           nos desnuda
                        nos desfigura
maldita
como una flor oscura
tierna
que nos desea y repudia.
Close

COLOMBIA TODAY

The days of the Colony have come back again:
martyred figures abandoned in the semidarkness
in the endless timeless galleries
in the rarefied atmosphere of the temples

Tense rays of light fall like darts
like choirs like presages
that all or nothing is the same

and the man – the flesh the body  –
suffers
crucified to such a  lie
Something loves us and destroys us
the world without landscapes without tears;
only grimaces captivity tortures
ecstasies shams hell
emptiness . . .

A caress
           strips us
                        deforms us
damned
like a dark tender
flower
that desires and rejects us.

COLOMBIA TODAY

The days of the Colony have come back again:
martyred figures abandoned in the semidarkness
in the endless timeless galleries
in the rarefied atmosphere of the temples

Tense rays of light fall like darts
like choirs like presages
that all or nothing is the same

and the man – the flesh the body  –
suffers
crucified to such a  lie
Something loves us and destroys us
the world without landscapes without tears;
only grimaces captivity tortures
ecstasies shams hell
emptiness . . .

A caress
           strips us
                        deforms us
damned
like a dark tender
flower
that desires and rejects us.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère