Author: Pablo Saborio

no more poetry

divine_forgetfulness_poem

Twilight and the window
the chair and the wait
I need a drink
before I compose a poem
from these worthless apparitions
that invade my private
inconsequential abode
I remember thinking
life had a veiled multicolored beauty
a raison d’être for the monochromatic
soul
now I drink
think less
but perceive more
like that twinkling
drop
over there
at the brim of a whiskey glass
preparing for the plunge
one fatal splash
into a lake of ennui
that turns all
into whirl
and divine forgetfulness.

nihilistic poetry

observations

winter contemporary poetry

Far
again living
awake
aware
standing on cobblestone
streets
where the grey amnesia of the sky
meets the wet mirror of the street
the snow rests nested
in the tucked arms of branches
imperceptibly rocked into a dreamless winter
voices, alien and desperate
emerge and then disappear
in accidental alternation
like those winds that visit trees
and the zoom out of sight
into a hemisphere of silence
the youth, the drunk and the dying
calling out: it’s too late
adding to the noise
that slowly lulls
the entire earth
to sleep.

contemporary poetry

en contacto

Había comprendido
la calle que visité
todos los días por esta
edad de indiferencia
era un portal
y en decidida
rebelión
pincelaba yo
cada aspecto
de mi calle pisoteada
agregándole tonos
que la hacían verse
cada vez más como un mundo
donde los artistas de la locura
gobernaban los asfaltos y las perpendicularidades
era un portal
transportando todo pensamiento
a lo innombrable
y era esa calle donde transitaba
la pasión por el pigmento
de color de carne
que me hacía ver la extensión
de la ciudad y su continuación
hasta el infinito
como una gota diminuta
flotando quizá
entre los silencios
de los tiempos. 

poesía contemporánea

the iceman cometh

We all sat,
staring more to the left
than to the right
our heads slowly drooping
approaching the table
that’ll serve as a pillow
tonight… but then
someone gets up
amongst our snarls and grumble
stands on a chair
grandstand before him
and words somewhat
resembling these: 

 

I’d clothed myself
in all these dirty rags of dreams
I needed them
to protect myself
from the bitterness outside
the hostile quake of accidents
and frostbitten emptiness
just like you
– all of you!
we’re drowning in our illusions
like a matchstick
burning itself
slowly becoming blur and flakes
until one day
truth unattainable
we disappear – like
a wisp of nothingness
in the incommensurability
of the eternal midnight.

 

Someone threw an empty bottle
at him
knocked him out dead
and we resumed our rest
alongside decadent dreams.

contemporary poetry

motions

Motion contemporary poetry

the walk
curled smoke
released
like a hallelujah
a modicum of light
on her eye
that stares infernally
at you
 
 

 

aging with the pulp
a journey whose
voice praying on ash
gains no wisdom
 
 
 

the want
disseminating doubts
that coil around the flesh
but no soul
 
 
 

 

 
the last moment of the day
a cello
in the air
charged
with collapse
 
 
 

 

 
ambulant timekeeping
wayfaring in delirium
still listening to
the living
clouds.
 
 
 

 

contemporary poetry

la mirada

Se vestía de una lejanía
ella descansaba
en el horizonte
tapado por una civilización
de huecos y ecos
ajena a la lucha diaria
ella
con una pesada envoltura
de estrellas y pesimismos
se movía sigilosamente
como ideal moribundo
que chorrea del las manos
y en secreto de mar
desnuda por la transparencia
de su distancia
me miró
callada y juez
condenó todo intento
en silencio y espera
me percaté que el mensaje
es un cuarto de hora
hundido en el vacío
sin números.
 
 
 

poesía nihilista

approximations

Guesses
wide awake
yet engulfed
in bottomless dream
guessing
how to undress
be raw, nakedly raw
while the great wave of tomorrow
usurps all my vain hypotheses
the crystals in the air
swirl in entrancing patterns
I’m guessing
undecided
whether to cross this street
or return to the wreckage
that floats over the nothingness
of the world
then the mist descends
and engulfed again
in that sewer full of the debris
of revolutions and broken sciences
guessing
how to plant my heart
far away in the fields
where light
touches
light.
 
 
 

21st century poetry

los días son…

los dias

Los días son campos
ambiguos
los días son
necedades
hechas para enfurecer
y desaparecer
los días son
rituales estrechos
donde no caben
los elixires de un borracho
los días son mitos
narrando la imposibilidad
de un sueño metafísico
los días son
la verdad
de lo que no
tiene verdad.

superhero stuff

I wasn’t going to give up
I stood up
probably looking like a fool
two steps back
and then a great leap
alighting on the nearest
caprice
that would fling me forward
in speeds unknown to men
far beyond the perimeter
of predictability
in amazement I was already
roaming the streets
the night crackling like firewood
in the midst of an entire
careless crowd
blind with mad desire
running through
the streets
and the smells
the drool
the sweat
I could taste everything
nothing could stop me
like a superhero of despair
that would not
give up
relentlessly swerving
through the eternal succession
of labyrinthine alleyways
I ran
ran
and ran
laughing
like a fool
because I would never
give up.

 

nihilistic poetry

detalles

ciudad cementerio

este lugar existía
tenía un ángel
que sobrevolaba en dosis
de crepúsculo
con los hielos narrando
los grises cohibidos
debajo de las suelas de la prisa
y cruza un hombre con
brazos de letargo
abriendo el humo desahogado
que flota en vórtices
por la avenida del invierno
en estacas se captan
los edificios con tendencias
melancólicas causadas
por un amor que se grabó
en incienso y no en cemento
este lugar existía
tenía un ángel meditabundo
que sobrevolaba por zonas
de un aforismo huérfano
pudriéndose
en el cementerio
del anteayer.

poesía contemporánea