miércoles, 30 de octubre de 2013

Your question

Your question

You were already gone
You already gave up
Under the crypt of the temple
In Thou name you never believed to accept

When from the impossible it arose timely
A confirmation of the awaited meeting
As an example that can not be silenced
As the voice of a man echoing in the air.

Knowing that it would not be a shelter
That the verses were already coming
Like seasons, days and nights
On time and in their own tide

And then appeared a suffocating madness
A game dominated by danger
Heights becoming higher
And depths becoming deeper.

Intensity beats in the face
Making cracks in what was attained
Indicating clear limits 
Between what is acceptable or intended.

Like one who seems not seeking perfection in his creations
But only imitations far away from dedication
As a father who does not respect the son opinion when different from his
And only his unattained dream joins him with his descendant. 

The deeds which are predictable
Like a lord discussing with the stones
In the sense that he is facing his origin
Denies and affirms before acceptance.

The blood dripping on the points of the hated steel
Capturing the ephemeral that ends melting in eternity
Like a son who looks at his mother suspiciously
While she silently observes as times goes by.

The implicit crossroads
And the leaps of sacrifice
For giving a reek explanation
For a listener that even in his attitude is asking questions.

lunes, 28 de octubre de 2013

Your sabotages

Your sabotages

I feel that you do not want my achievement
And not as a consequence but for the act
To do something that although you could
You do not do for some reason.

Being able to console but not to encourage
Your own sabotage prevents your from it
As they disqualify a hedonist to act
Wanting to seek advice from the most intense ascetic.

The night visitors and the radicals
Each one of them grasping a dagger
And with a veil covering their intense feelings
Proving to be intangible when they try intense things.

Of those who are nothing but look at you
Of the lonely ways of a rusty train
Of twilight time and an old attempt
As a bridge in the air, deprived of direction.

Without mind or body
Like the smoke drawn on postcards
The complete image of torment
Converging with misery and vulgarity.

The blows of things that you do not understand
The darkness, the light and the ductile
To refer to reality without any fear
The appropriated field for final dishonor.

Tightening ropes on the ring of the soul
Quantifying emptiness that remains unknown
While one attends his own desperation
Subject to a constant impulse and a frustrating effort.

Thus, my eyes on your shoulders
Resting there for my relief of sadness
But not to produce an outburst of honest laughter
Where tremors vanish as obstacles crack in a mine.

It is at edge of your mind like a fragile idea
The threads imagining the possibility on your behalf
In a time that you glimpse what you could do
Not for the present charged with a past not understood.

sábado, 26 de octubre de 2013

Elvio Romero, sus mejores poemas

Ficha del libro:
Título: Elvio Romero, sus mejores poemas
Autor: Elvio Romero
Editorial: El lector
Nro. Páginas: 212
Elvio Romero, sus mejores poemas
por Silvio M. Rodríguez C.

El poeta paraguayo Elvio Romero (1926-2004)  representa la otra cara de la penuria, el lado claro de lo oscuro. Con seis años le tocó vivir la guerra de Paraguay con Bolivia, y a los 21 años, tras la guerra civil conoció el exilio. Sólo considerando esto pudiera esperarse en sus poemas furia y resentimiento, dolor y acaso descreimiento. Sin embargo, quien ama, quien porta dentro lo pasional sin escudos, suele terminar rescatando de cada gesto y cada omisión la lucha íntima por lograr lo bueno, lo mejor desde el hombre hasta la nación, desde la nación hasta lo humano sin banderías.

En sus poemas hay una combinación preciosa entre lo descriptivo y lo espontáneo y fijo de las emociones. El paisaje se vuelve sentimiento y el sentimiento se dispara en espiral desde el paisaje. Cada palmera, cada pájaro, cada fusil y cada charco de sangre se convierten en símbolo sencillo de profundo significado, entre los que intervienen, latiendo, el hombre y los hombres, el individuo y la suma de los individuos, desde una visión ilimitada de patria, en donde la tierra no es un país, sino una razón que busca volver a una hermandad primigenia y natural aunque implique luchar hasta morir.

Formalmente posee un estilo muy logrado, con un dominio total sobre la métrica que le permite alcanzar la naturalidad, el escribir sin aparente esfuerzo, como si la construcción de un poema se tratase de sólo volcar en el papel la estructura almacenada por dentro. Pero más allá de los endecasílabos -y es un disfrute maravilloso los giros que emplea con alejandrinos, sonetos y romances-, también es capaz de poemas libres, de versos largos sin medida en los que transmite un aliento maduro y ágil, sin privarse de riesgos pero sujetando siempre el ritmo, logrando una cadencia encabritada de difícil, complicada armonía.

Esta muy buena selección de poemas incluye extractos de 12 de sus libros, "Días roturados" (1948), "Resoles áridos" (1950), "Despiertan las fogatas" (1953), "El sol bajo las raíces" (1956, y que fuera presentado por MIguel Ángel Asturias), "De cara al corazón" (1961), "Esta guitarra dura" (1961), "Un relámpago herido" (1967), "Los innombrables" (1970), "Destierro y atardecer" (1975), "El viejo fuego" (1977), "Los valles imaginarios" (1984), y "Flechas en un arco tendido" (1994). La selección, que evidencia gran esfuerzo, fue realizada por Francisco Pérez-Maricevich, José-Luis Appleyard, Ramiro Domínguez, Roque Vallejos y Rudi Torga, miembros del consejo permanente de la editorial El lector.

"Elvio Romero, sus mejores poemas", es un libro que para quienes no conozcan a este autor les resultará una invitación a adentrarse en el sentimiento americano, a la forma y fondo de un escritor celebrado por altos referentes de la literatura como Miguel Ángel Asturias, Rafael Alberti y Gabriela Mistral. Para los que ya lo conocen no deja de ser una pieza infaltable de coleccionista, una manera de repasar nuevamente una poesía que palpita desde tierra adentro, desde la tierra y el arado, desde la sonrisa limpia del sembradío victorioso fecundado por el brazo firme que suda y desconoce de temores.

viernes, 25 de octubre de 2013

The first

The first

Taking a risk for being young
Because fears, perhaps many
Are brief with a kind of clumsiness
As the grip or the word can be enough
To gain the embrace and the link creating it.

Without talking about the power or history
In the car or on the porch of a cathedral
The fate of being real and someone existing
Because it occurs while life goes by
Between premonitions and known certainties.

From what we have and since having it what we await
From what we want and since then what we do
The cloth somebody makes and someone else wears
The size imagined but ignored by someone who wears
And the art of inclusion or not joining ends.

There is nothing to say when every name sounds
Conveying a message that dwells deep inside
And wants to answer as it follows the own desire
Going through anything that was imposed to cross
Until it reaches an extreme point where is not worthwhile going

It still follows and indication that there is a long way
Between the acts, their lifetime, the speech and the one involved
Like branches knowing as they are but not chosen to be
And even though they can protest they refrain
Because they are carried by an ardent fire.

The return to simple things without noise this time
The impulse of a breath moving to an expression
The eyes saying that explanations are superfluous
The sight fixed on what is pretended to be excluded
As a sterile woman dismisses the promised son.

In any street on a dark night or in a time of rest
During or after a desire daring to blossom
Deep inside a person expressing his essence with his hands
As a suspicious intent under a more human appearance
Knowing that those pretending will have a brief stay -
The scream does not burst forth but it sure comes to the order.