4 Poems by Miguel Avero Translated by Jona Colson
Pasillos
Iré por los pasillos
haciendo caso omiso
de los charcos transparentes,
de las eléctricas guiñadas,
de los derruidos calefactores.
Cada puerta esconde un mundo
pero no puedo elegir,
apenas un puntapié en alguna de ellas,
antes de regresar corriendo
y tropezar,
chocar, insultar
al dios que sale
de los ascensores
con la bolsa de pan
y la botella de vino.
Mi habitación no tiene
descripción ni número,
solo un flujo que se escapa
por debajo de la puerta.
Hallways
I will go through the corridors
not paying attention
to the transparent puddles,
the electric winks,
the destroyed heaters.
Each door hides a world,
but I cannot choose,
I just kick some of them,
before running back
and stumbling,
crashing, insulting
the god that comes out
of the elevators
with the bag of bread
and the bottle of wine.
My room does not have
a description or a number,
only a current that escapes
below the door.
Ventanal
La soledad de este sitio,
el abuso de silencios…
He visto algunos habitantes
errando por los pasillos,
he llegado a la conclusión
de que les temo.
Siempre tranco la puerta de mi pieza,
las madrugadas se hacen largas
entre arañas que deambulan
por el cielo raso.
Una noche por el ala norte,
un ventanal abría
dos inmensos párpados rojos,
ascendí por la rampa oscura,
vi mi propia sombra
tirada como estiércol en la calle,
un gajo de luna delator,
suspiré,
hablé,
todo giraba en torno a mi persona.
Picture Window
The loneliness of this site,
the abuse of silences …
I have seen some people
wandering through the corridors,
I have come to the conclusion
that I fear them.
I always lock the door of my room,
dawns get longer
among the spiders that roam
above the ceiling.
One night in the north wing,
a window opened
two huge red eyelids,
I climbed up the dark ramp,
I saw my own shadow
thrown like dung in the street,
a slice of the telltale moon,
I sighed,
I talked,
everything revolved around me.
Los Que Habitan Este Piso
Tienen el privilegio de beber
con Chinasky las cervezas
azules de Teillier.
Marcos vacíos
de sus habitaciones,
floreros destrozados
en las mesitas de luz;
nieblas de nicotina,
poesía,
y los gusanos
adentro de las botellas.
Los que habitan este piso
deben dormir
tras recitar
nevados poemas de Celan
en alemán.
Those Who Inhabit This Floor
They have the privilege of drinking
Teillier’s blue beers
with Chinasky.
Empty frames
of their rooms,
shattered vases
on the bedside tables;
nicotine mists,
poetry,
and the worms
inside the bottles.
Those who inhabit this floor
must sleep
after reciting
snowy poems by Celan
in German.
Zurita y Dante
“…pero pasó que estaba en un baño cuando vi algo como un ángel…” Raúl Zurita, Purgatorio
Asciende hacia la luz Zurita andante
pule los escalones Zurita andante
hiede a hipoclorito Zurita andante
pantalón con lamparones Zurita andante.
Divisa el color rojo Zurita andante
lucha con la manchas Zurita andante
y el aliento de los caños Zurita andante.
Escribe un poema Zurita andante
canta a los azulejos Zurita andante.
En el baño de mujeres Zurita andante
engrameando la tiesta Zurita andante
descubre las virtudes Zurita andante
ya no tendrá sueños Zurita andante.
Zurita and Dante
“… but it happened that I was in a bathroom when I saw something like an angel …” Raúl Zurita, Purgatory
Ascending toward the light Zurita walks
polishing the steps Zurita walks
stinking of Clorox Zurita walks
with stained pants Zurita walks.
Seeing red Zurita walks
fighting with stains Zurita walks
and smelling like drains Zurita walks.
Writing a poem Zurita walks
singing to the tiles Zurita walks.
In the women’s bathroom Zurita walks
shaking his head Zurita walks
discovering virtue Zurita walks
no longer dreaming Zurita walks.
Miguel Avero is a narrator, essayist, teacher and researcher. He directs the “Puerta Chimera” writing workshop, and he has been included in various national and international anthologies, specifically, América Invertida: An Anthology of Emerging Uruguayan Poets (University of New Mexico Press). He has published several books including two collections of poems Arca de Aserrín (Ediciones en Blanco) and La Pieza (Walkie Talkie Editions). Most recently, he has published Haiku Mate (Demiurge Editions). Avero lives in Montevideo, Uruguay.
Jona Colson’s poetry collection, Said Through Glass, won the 2018 Jean Feldman Poetry Prize from the Washington Writers’ Publishing House. He is also the poetry editor of This Is What America Looks Like: Poetry and Fiction from D.C., Maryland, and Virginia (2021). His poems, translations, and interviews have appeared in Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, The Writer’s Chronicle, and elsewhere. He is an associate professor of ESL at Montgomery College and lives the Washington, DC area.
7 October 2021
Leave a Reply