Poem
Alberto Vélez
VIII
Today I saw a photograph in whichYou wear a hat, rolled-up trousers, and carry a fishing rod.
You were happy, as if the world did not
Still exist.
What were you thinking on that laughing afternoon?
When I saw you in that photo,
A fist closed over my heart.
I am fed by the occasional sadness
Of seeing you, from the perspective of years,
As a young man, immune to night storms.
Or as an old man, defeated by light,
With God’s weariness upon his shoulders.
What was in your thoughts, that afternoon,
Who was?
© Translation: 2011, Laura Chalar
VIII
VIII
Hoy he visto una foto en la que tienesSombrero, pantalón remangado y caña de pescar.
Estabas feliz, como si el mundo todavía
No existiera.
¿Qué pensabas esa tarde de risas?
Al verte en la fotografía,
Un puño se cerró sobre mi corazón.
A mí me alimenta la ocasional tristeza
De verte desde la perspectiva de los años
Como un hombre joven, inmune a las tormentas de la noche.
O como un anciano derrotado por la luz,
Con la fatiga de Dios sobre sus hombros.
¿Pensabas en qué esa tarde,
En quién?
© 2006, Alberto Vélez
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Poems
Poems of Alberto Vélez
Close
VIII
Today I saw a photograph in whichYou wear a hat, rolled-up trousers, and carry a fishing rod.
You were happy, as if the world did not
Still exist.
What were you thinking on that laughing afternoon?
When I saw you in that photo,
A fist closed over my heart.
I am fed by the occasional sadness
Of seeing you, from the perspective of years,
As a young man, immune to night storms.
Or as an old man, defeated by light,
With God’s weariness upon his shoulders.
What was in your thoughts, that afternoon,
Who was?
© 2011, Laura Chalar
VIII
Today I saw a photograph in whichYou wear a hat, rolled-up trousers, and carry a fishing rod.
You were happy, as if the world did not
Still exist.
What were you thinking on that laughing afternoon?
When I saw you in that photo,
A fist closed over my heart.
I am fed by the occasional sadness
Of seeing you, from the perspective of years,
As a young man, immune to night storms.
Or as an old man, defeated by light,
With God’s weariness upon his shoulders.
What was in your thoughts, that afternoon,
Who was?
© 2011, Laura Chalar
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