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  • Nubes, and: Clouds, and: Acción de Gracias, and: Thanksgiving
  • Juan Felipe Robledo (bio)
    Translated by Nicolás Suescún

Nubes

Formaron cabezas de caballos,fueron ijares y escudos,una piedra que nos mira desde el fondo de un pozo.

Siguieron un camino trazado mucho antes,en una época en la que todo se decidía en un billar.

La iglesia gris que vio pasar estudiantes confusos sigue vacía,nunca sonó la campana en ella.

El atento salmodiar de los vendedores de pizzano ha molestado el lejano rumbo de las nubes.

Pero nuestro corazón no cede.

Es curso de la eternidad se dirimío en esta oscura barraca,y así como arriba, abajo el día es de los navegantes que el cielo respetan,y, de vez en cuando, miran otra cosa, una lejana.

Clouds

They gave form to heads of horses,they were greaves and shields,a stone looking at us from the bottom of a pit.

They went on a path traced much before,at a time in which everything was decided in a pool hall.

The grey church that saw confused students passing by is still emptybecause its bell never tolled.

The heedful droning of the pizza sellershas not disturbed the remote course of the clouds.

But our heart does not give up.

The route of eternity was settled in this dark shack,and just as above, the day is of the seamen who respect the sky,and from time to time look at another thing, a far-off thing. [End Page 139]

Acción de Gracias

    a mamá

Las mujeres nos salvande tedio inmensoy plateado mundo,llenándonos de fortalezay, en las estancias de la infancia,oscuras y vibrantes y plenas,donde hay lámparas por mantas cubiertas,hacen que detengamos el pasoy nuestro pensamiento vuelao, mejor, se detiene y fracturapara empezar a vivir en el plexo,la piel y las uñas.Nos fijamos en las uñas, ¡aleluya!y contemplamos el azul sin pausa,el océano es nuestro alimento—cuna del tiempo—.Presentimos distantes lugaresdonde la historia es la mismay no hay moraleja.En cafés y calles y plazas y teatrosdescubrimos el sonido de la risa y, dichosos,nada aguardamos y somos plácidos y la fuerza nos habita.

Thanksgiving

    for my mother

Women save us froman immense boredomand the silvery worldfilling us with strength,and in the rooms of childhood,dark and vibrant and full,where there are lamps covered with blankets,they make us stop on our wayand our thinking fliesor, better, stops and fracturesto begin to live in the plexus,the skin and the nails.We notice the nails, hallelujah!and ceaselessly contemplate the blue,the ocean being our food—cradle of time—.We forebode distant placeswhere history is the sameand there is no moral.In coffee shops and streets and plazas and move theaterswe discover the sound of laughter and, blissful,we wait for nothing and are placid, and strength dwells in us. [End Page 140]
Juan Felipe Robledo
Colombia
Juan Felipe Robledo

Robledo, Juan Felipe is a poet and university professor. Robledo has published more than ten books, including De mañana (“In the morning,” 2003); La música de las horas (“The music of the hours,” 2002); Luz en lo alto (“Light on high,” 2006); and Dibujando un mapa de la noche (“Drawing a map of night,” 2008). He has published anthologies of Spanish poets of the Siglo de Oro, the Romancero and Ruben Darío, as well as articles on poetry and narrative. He was awarded the Jaime Sabines Poetry Prize (1999) and the National Poetry Prize of the Ministry of Culture of Colombia (2001).

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