Author: Pablo Saborio

el fin de la tierra

fin_de_la_tierra

Quién borrará la vida
para iniciar un nuevo
lamento. Todo

ya sucedió. Yacemos libres
debajo de campos
amueblados con rocas
y huesos. Esperando

el clímax de un ciego génesis.

Ahí entre polvo
quedaron sabidurías
hambrientas de más.

Quién fue el último
en ver la sombra
hacerse ala hacia luz.

El filo blanco del infinito
arrugándose en rojas
sierras de horizonte.

Quién fue el último
en ver la tierra
con ojos de microbio
y cantando con todas
las lenguas de las eras
un adiós

al camino.

 

 

Poesía Contemporánea

today

nothingness

Today, I’m convinced
that the hard edge
of matter
is nothing but a
soft pillow
of cloud,

that I’ve never seen the earth

because I’ve made nothing
but sculptures of smoke
with the shadows of
the mind.

Today, I might shrink
to a piece of petal
and wait for a flood of light
to drag my sight toward perfume
and thaw my flesh
to dew.

I’ve never visited the world,
standing drunk here between
two columns of dream.

Today, I could have erased
memory with its tail of tale,
today I see there’s nothing
in space

not even the pulse
of silence’s throbbing slumber.

 

Contemporary Poetry

on the origin of things

origin_of_reality

There were no instructions
and everything had a gleam
with no in between.

Even for the mind
there was no concept
nothing to break off
from the rhythm
of nature’s
self-portrait.

There was no suffering
of a thousand of years
and the mountains
were idiots with hands
in the sky.

There were no rules
of proportion and
we were born
in the middle
of gray.

In the midst of howls,
the happy blood-stained
gesture, but there was no
relationship with being
and non-being.

We killed until
ethics was an abstract
form of tool. And language
built a house for
loneliness.

This was long ago.
When something came
to dance and we were its
feathers.

Contemporary Poetry

in a distance

phenomena

I’ve wondered
to know nothing.

Seeing
my sea
of conscious,
weave wasted waves
of experience
into hairdos of light.

I’ve wondered
of returning
to enormous view
and an amorous
climax of confusion.

I’ve wondered to drink
night from water,
in unabridged absence
of divisions,
without order ,
with rain ribboning
the eclipse of impulse.

I’ve wondered
to forget
the sounds and the signs,
to find a strange design.

I’ve wondered
to know again.

Spying new round volume,
phenomena impenetrable else
glitters like a city;

in a distance sleepless to remember.

 

Contemporary Poetry

hacerse nada

negro_haciendose_humo

La sangre brilla

y se
seca

como sombra.

Todo termina,
el remoto monasterio

de tantas
estrellas
y la arena.

Hemos aparecido pero ni
permanente es la luz
columpiando

como columna de humo
en nada y nada

pero un sueño
se viste de eventos
y gran sucesión de fundamentos.

Todo termina
otro eón arrugado en parpadeo,
mira el lenguaje

lanzar su
triste código de ideas.

La vista ha visto
tan poco que

es pequeño eructo
de puro finito.

¿Me oyes? Usted
que está tan atrás
tan arraigado en esqueleto
usted tan carne y alboroto,
balanceando el dolor
sobre el golfo de la pena.

¿Me escuchas? Todo
terminando escama de lira,
tanta mujer con clavos
haciendo lazos de luz
sobre la cruz.

La gota del caos.

Este mundo,

aquí.

Independiente, extraño
atravesando la memoria,
como un viento
inventando las ramas
de la vida.

Todo termina,
sin borde derramándose
sobre el negro

como una palabra
haciéndose piedra

y luego lento humo.

 

Poesía Contemporánea