[Out Of Anonymity]
Mass at eight in the provinces, the parishioners
cooperate obediently. The sun shines on the plate
glass windows and a palmiped
curves the wind that inclines the palms toward the South.
Lightning: my natural shadow,
my electric shadow. It’s the right time.
In a meeting with few people
I hum fever like one of Bergman’s
nurses: relax, dizziness is normal…
A flash. A waving piece of fabric. Flowerpots
with primroses. Now the students
look at me
with kind eyes
to be drawn by an apprentice
wisdom the gossip shop
of the soul?
I have talked a plenty and bad, although I bring
a memorized cough, cold hands,
a happy heart
and tobacco spittle
I watch the audience change
the atmosphere of the place with their applause.
I am an aesthetic worm embryo
in their midst, a boy about to
lift something that’s too big
or enter their lives like a meteorite
and sing about
within. Your podium is comfortable
but I don’t need to know precisely
where the poem ends
and the apple begins
but go back home and find a message
in the kitchen: Arrived yesterday from your south. What are you up to?
Translated by Curtis Bauer
[Out Of Anonymity] is from Un huésped panorámico [A Panoramic Guest] (Barcelona, DVD Ediciones, 2010).
You can read and listen to the poem in the original Spanish here.