Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Jordi Doce

SOMEWHERE

You live in a city where the map of the side streets dangerously resembles that of your heart. A city where the stains and chips on the walls are windows that follow your steps, doors that no one dares to cross. Where the hung laundry sends coded messages and the glassy eyes of the fish exchange glances of recognition with the copper money of the servants. A city of towers and minarets that change location every day, of carpets that fly inside one’s eyes, of lamps that hide their own light. A city where at nightfall groups of young and old men gather atop the walls to look over the slope of the river, the melted nugget of the sun illuminating the fertile valley, the crops which tremble at the slightest breath.

EN ALGUN LUGAR

EN ALGUN LUGAR

Vives en una ciudad donde el trazado de las callejas se parece peligrosamente al de tu corazón. Una ciudad donde las manchas y desconchones de los muros son ventanas que siguen tus pasos, puertas que nadie se atreve a franquear. Donde la ropa tendida propaga mensajes cifrados y los ojos vidriosos de los peces intercambian miradas de reconocimiento con las monedas de cobre de los criados. Una ciudad de torres y alminares que cambian cada día de lugar, de alfombras que vuelan por dentro de los ojos, de lámparas que esconden su propia luz. Una ciudad donde al atardecer grupos de muchachos y ancianos se reúnen en lo alto de las murallas para mirar la explanada del río, el lingote fundido del sol iluminando la vega, las espigas que vibran al más ligero soplo.

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SOMEWHERE

You live in a city where the map of the side streets dangerously resembles that of your heart. A city where the stains and chips on the walls are windows that follow your steps, doors that no one dares to cross. Where the hung laundry sends coded messages and the glassy eyes of the fish exchange glances of recognition with the copper money of the servants. A city of towers and minarets that change location every day, of carpets that fly inside one’s eyes, of lamps that hide their own light. A city where at nightfall groups of young and old men gather atop the walls to look over the slope of the river, the melted nugget of the sun illuminating the fertile valley, the crops which tremble at the slightest breath.

SOMEWHERE

You live in a city where the map of the side streets dangerously resembles that of your heart. A city where the stains and chips on the walls are windows that follow your steps, doors that no one dares to cross. Where the hung laundry sends coded messages and the glassy eyes of the fish exchange glances of recognition with the copper money of the servants. A city of towers and minarets that change location every day, of carpets that fly inside one’s eyes, of lamps that hide their own light. A city where at nightfall groups of young and old men gather atop the walls to look over the slope of the river, the melted nugget of the sun illuminating the fertile valley, the crops which tremble at the slightest breath.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Hendrik Muller fonds
Lira fonds
J.E. Jurriaanse
Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère