Three Poems from Notations in Jade by Edinson Aladino Translated by Allison A. deFreese

Translated from the Spanish by Allison A. deFreese


La Buitrera: Memories, Childhoods

Clarity gradually succumbs to whispers 
that give back memories
turned African tulips.

I had to wipe my fists clean,
filled as they were with the scent of tangerines;
my lips moist with sweet blancmange
by the iridescent river that lit the courtyard:
a straggly courtyard with lemon breath
or the breath of mango peels.
High above, a mist dissolved. 
From the uneven enchantment of fireflies, 
an eyelash was born.

High above, the guava trees 
caressed the candle of the afternoon.

By the river, children stopped the skin of crystals 
as a thread of ants
said their goodbyes.







Palmira

These are the images that watch over us:
the stillness of the guayacán tree
and the whisper of libraries at midday;
a cluster of paper kites
embedded like needles in the afternoon's dream
and the heartbeats of the park:
gods covering avenues in blood,
burying bones and masks in the sugarcane groves.

The scent of pineapples 
went drifting away from the cathedral
and at the café table, words were chosen. 
A cup of dark roast brought with it that poem 
with a mimicking rhythm, a blind violin,
its throat abandoning breath
in the pool of water that no one hears
but which rises to our temples.

These are the images that watch over us. 
Once, I gathered dates
as they dropped from the palm trees.

Far away, those libraries.
Far away, the guayacan tree.
Far away, the dawns hanging down 
from orchids in the parks
from the lilac circles under the eyes 
of a seventeen-year-old poet 
who listened to the thunder of seashells
in the dark water of the night.






In the Words of Actaeon

Forest: you come to me with an image 
				that turns to flesh on my lips
				you come to me with a woman's name.

Forest: languid as a fawn, 
		moist as sex, the flowers 
				nibbled by your fingers.

Forest: your belly caressed by the dark pubis 
		it is there I drink from the clear morning 
						of an image. 

La Buitrera – Infancias

La claridad va sobreponiéndose al rumor 
que devuelve la memoria
convertida en tulipanes africanos. 

Había que limpiarse los puños
llenos de olor a mandarina
y los labios húmedos de manjar blanco 
junto al río que irisaba el patio; 
rezagado patio con aliento a limón
o a cáscaras de mango.
Una bruma se deshacía en lo alto. 
Una pestaña nacía con el hechizo
inestable de los cocuyos. 

Desde lo alto las guayabas 
acariciaban la bujía de la tarde. 

Junto al río los niños detenían la piel de los cristales 
mientras un hilo de hormigas
anunciaba los adioses. 






Palmira

Estas son las imágenes que nos custodian:
la fijeza del guayacán
y el murmullo de las bibliotecas al mediodía;
un manojo de cometas de papel
incrustadas como agujas en el sueño de la tarde
y los latidos del parque;
dioses ensangrentando avenidas,
sepultando huesos y máscaras en los cañaduzales. 

El aire de las piñas se alejaba de la catedral
y en la mesa del café se decidían las palabras. 
Una taza de tinto traía ese poema
con la mímica del ritmo, ciego violín,
garganta abandonando su respiración
en el estanque desoído que sube hasta las sienes. 

Estas son las imágenes que nos custodian. 
En otro tiempo yo recolectaba dátiles
que caían de las palmeras. 

Lejos están aquellas bibliotecas.
Lejos está aquel guayacán.
Lejos están aquellas madrugadas suspendidas
en las orquídeas de los parques
y en las ojeras lilas de un poeta de diecisiete años 
que escuchaba el retumbar del caracol
en el agua oscura de la noche. 








Palabras de Acteón

Bosque: me llegas con la imagen
				hecha carne en mis labios 
				de un nombre de mujer. 

Bosque: languidez de cervatillo, 
		humedad de sexo las flores 
				mordisqueadas por tus dedos. 

Bosque: vientre acariciado del pubis negro 
		donde bebo la clara mañana 
					de una imagen. 

Edinson Aladino (Colombia, 1985). Colombian writer and literary critic. He holds a PhD in Literature from the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM). His academic articles have been published in specialized Latin America and African journals, and he has collaborated on book chapters for universities such as the University of Salerno, the University of Padua and the Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla. In 2018, he was a doctoral research fellow in Havana at the José Lezama Lima Archive (José Martí National Library of Cuba). Between 2021 and 2022 he studied for a diploma in Afro-Latin American Studies at Harvard University. He is currently a postdoctoral fellow at the Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla. A member of the Mexican Association of Caribbean Studies (AMEC) and the Circolo Amerindiano di Perugia. Aladino’s poetry has appeared in anthologies including: Sonidos de gloria. Antología de poesía colombiana (Grupo Editorial Letras Negras, 2024) and El vuelo del tacto. Antología del día mundial de la poesía (Santa Rabia Poetry, 2025). He has won the National Poetry Prize Casa Silva in Colombia (2023) and recently published the collection poetry collection La prueba del jade (Buenos Aires Poetry, 2024).

Allison A. deFreese is president of the Oregon Society of Translators and Interpreters (OSTI). She is also a poet and has translated a few books.

14 January 2026