L'oblit és l'única mort que mata de debò.
EDUARDO GALEANO
Nipple and hive, bite-lumps
small acorns of the almost pleasurable
intimated and disallowed
SEAMUS HEANEY in 'Hailstones',
from The Haw Lantern (1987)
By / Per Ester Astudillo
Like a poetry collection
Right off the freezer
Dripping gently onto your palm
The sweat,
The vapours,
The blood,
The semen
It took the author
To squirt it off and get done.
That’s how I like you best:
Out of the vapours of the gin-tonics of yesternight
Out of your clothes after I ripped them
Out of your dreams that clog your look in your wake
Out of the nightmares that clog mine
Letting come to life what was dormant:
An astonishing something to be lived briefly,
Like a poetry collection
Brought about in one go
in the mist of an alcoholic binge,
And to be lost soon afterwards,
Defrosted,
Perfectly useless and untouched,
In the jungle of oblivion.
Com un recull de poesia
just tret del congelador
degotant suaument a la palma
la suor,
els vapors,
la sang,
el semen
que van fer que l’autor esclatés en el clímax
i es donés per satisfet.
havent deixat enrere els vapors dels cubates a la nit
i el vestit després d’estripar-te'li els somnis que embussen el teu esguard quan et lleves
i els malsons que embussen el meu
fent que prengui vida el que estava adormit:
quelcom sense nom per ser viscut breument,
com un recull de poesia
parit d’una tirada entre les bromes de l’alcohol,
que es perdrà tot seguit,
degotant
ben inútil i sense obrir,
en la jungla de l'oblit.
