Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Santiago Barcaza

The place where nothing dies

An empty alley in the middle of the night
Is an empty alley at noon
No one walks from the end of it
But no one is a body either
One step after another
Without leaving organic waste
The transparency of the body
Is the color of the earth
And the color of the earth
Is the color of silence

I was never here
I never said what shouldn’t be said
And regardless
An empty alley
Is a place where nothing dies
And therefore
A language of sand
Because you know that in the totality of life
A handful of sand
Will give way to a stone
And a stone
Will give way to another stone

Every night
From the silence of the trees
My voice approaches like a cripple
Towards you.

El lugar donde nada muere

El lugar donde nada muere

Un callejón vacío en medio de la noche
Es un callejón vacío al mediodía
Nadie camina desde el fondo
Pero nadie es un cuerpo igualmente
Un paso tras otro
Sin dejar restos orgánicos
La transparencia del cuerpo
Es del color de la tierra
Y el color de la tierra
Es del color del silencio

Nunca estuve aquí
Nunca dije lo que no debió ser dicho
Y con todo
Un callejón vacío
Es un lugar donde nada muere
Y por tanto
Un lenguaje de arenas
Pues sabes que en el total de la vida
Un grupo de arenas
Dará paso a una piedra
Y una piedra
Dará paso a otra piedra

Cada noche
Desde el silencio de los árboles
Mi voz se acerca como un cojo
Hacia ti.
Close

The place where nothing dies

An empty alley in the middle of the night
Is an empty alley at noon
No one walks from the end of it
But no one is a body either
One step after another
Without leaving organic waste
The transparency of the body
Is the color of the earth
And the color of the earth
Is the color of silence

I was never here
I never said what shouldn’t be said
And regardless
An empty alley
Is a place where nothing dies
And therefore
A language of sand
Because you know that in the totality of life
A handful of sand
Will give way to a stone
And a stone
Will give way to another stone

Every night
From the silence of the trees
My voice approaches like a cripple
Towards you.

The place where nothing dies

An empty alley in the middle of the night
Is an empty alley at noon
No one walks from the end of it
But no one is a body either
One step after another
Without leaving organic waste
The transparency of the body
Is the color of the earth
And the color of the earth
Is the color of silence

I was never here
I never said what shouldn’t be said
And regardless
An empty alley
Is a place where nothing dies
And therefore
A language of sand
Because you know that in the totality of life
A handful of sand
Will give way to a stone
And a stone
Will give way to another stone

Every night
From the silence of the trees
My voice approaches like a cripple
Towards you.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère