Consistencia, and: Accuracy
- Consistencia, and: Accuracy
CONSISTENCIA
Desde el muro,la tierra es el blanco perfecto.
Hay que esperar.Les doy de comer a las palomas mientras espero.
Hay que esperar.Así esperan los fusiles de los niños en Liberia.Así esperan las pupilas grises del condenado.
Hay que esperar.Y es tan sórdido el silencio que germinoque el mismo latir es un rayo que anuncia ahogos lastimeros.
Los fijo sobre la calle,cuando la aurora muerde el último pasto;sobre sus autos,sobre su amantes;persigo su aliento de pez.
Observo su caminar tan trágico.A veces me da hambre su complacencia de gusano.Me como unas uñas de lagarto apesadumbrado.Dejo que mi rutina mueva la sombra de su abrigo.
Soy el murciélago desnudo,el misericordioso,el hombre que camina sobre el agua.
Los perros me ofrecen su pelaje nuevo.Las arañas abrazan a las moscasen una oscura religión de palpos. [End Page 58]
ACCURACY
From the wall,the earth is a perfect white.
One has to wait.I feed the pigeons as I wait.
One has to wait.That’s how the guns of children in Liberia wait.That’s how the dull pupils of the condemned wait.
One has to wait.And the silence I germinate is so sordidthat my very pulse is a ray announcing searing pain.
I fix them in my sights down on the street,as daybreak takes its final bit of nourishment;above its cars,above its lovers;I pursue their fishy breath.
I watch their tragic footsteps.Sometimes their worm-like complacency makes me hungry.I gnaw my grieving lizard nails.I let my routine move the shadow of their shelter.
I am the naked bat,the compassionate one,the man who walks on water.
Dogs offer me their fresh fur.Spiders embrace fliesin an obscure religion of feelers [End Page 59]
Los hombres rezan esos antiguos salmoscon los que han de morir.
Yo detrásllevo el candelabro que se columpia entre los capiteles.
Vuelvo a mi guarida,a mi muro.Los miro.Mi trabajo es peor que orinar sobre los santos.
Mi paga es la caída,su sien ahogada,su mutismo sombrío. [End Page 60]
Men sing those ancient psalmswith those who must die.
Following behind, Icarry the candelabra that sways between the capitals.
I return to my hideout,to my wall.I watch them.My job is worse than pissing on saints.
My payment is the fall,his oozing temple,his somber silence. [End Page 61]
The Ecuadoran writer santiago vizcaíno is the author of the prizewinning poetry collection Destruction in the Afternoon. English translations of his poems have appeared in Bitter Oleander, The Chattahoochee Review, and Connotation Press, among other journals.
alexis levitin’s translations have appeared in New England Review, American Poetry Review, and Prairie Schooner, among other journals. His thirty-four translations from the Spanish and Portuguese include Clarice Lispector’s Soulstorm, Eugenio de Andrade’s Forbidden Words, and, most recently, Ana Minga’s Tobacco Dogs. Other translations by Levitin have been published in issues 7 and 11/12 of Subtropics.
