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Poetry

If I could live on the vision without trying to say it

By Pedro de Jesús
Translated from Spanish by Dick Cluster

What’s real isn’t this thing or that thing
my presents
that you gave away
once they lost the weight and sheen
of being given
and became no more
than fragile objects.
What’s real isn’t our clumsy lies
or the bodies of others
we barely dare to touch.
Nor is it doubt—it can’t be doubt—
nor can it be hatred, fear, fatigue.
My bet is that what’s real
is infinitely beautiful.
There is a false time
set in motion when we fall,
but true time
is the eternity
of one who arises
shaken by a hunch
and sees through the fog.
I am saying words.
If I could live on the vision
without trying to say it.
If I could keep what’s real
from flying
off
then I would keep silent
or I’d remember only the phrases
for water,
rice,
shelter,
and caress.
Silence for you.
Phrases for you.
What’s real is this living calm,
my hummingbird stillness when you appear,
my agitation when you leave
and I find you in the silhouettes of others
and confusedly welcome your return.
What’s real, muchacho, is the joy
the
faith
in
our
encounters.

“Si Pudiera Sostenerme en la Visión Sin Intentar Decirla” from Granos de mudez. © 2009 by Pedro de Jesús. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2014 by Dick Cluster. All rights reserved.

English Spanish (Original)

What’s real isn’t this thing or that thing
my presents
that you gave away
once they lost the weight and sheen
of being given
and became no more
than fragile objects.
What’s real isn’t our clumsy lies
or the bodies of others
we barely dare to touch.
Nor is it doubt—it can’t be doubt—
nor can it be hatred, fear, fatigue.
My bet is that what’s real
is infinitely beautiful.
There is a false time
set in motion when we fall,
but true time
is the eternity
of one who arises
shaken by a hunch
and sees through the fog.
I am saying words.
If I could live on the vision
without trying to say it.
If I could keep what’s real
from flying
off
then I would keep silent
or I’d remember only the phrases
for water,
rice,
shelter,
and caress.
Silence for you.
Phrases for you.
What’s real is this living calm,
my hummingbird stillness when you appear,
my agitation when you leave
and I find you in the silhouettes of others
and confusedly welcome your return.
What’s real, muchacho, is the joy
the
faith
in
our
encounters.

“Si Pudiera Sostenerme en la Visión Sin Intentar Decirla” from Granos de mudez. © 2009 by Pedro de Jesús. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2014 by Dick Cluster. All rights reserved.

Si pudiera sostenerme en la visión sin intentar decirla

Lo real no es este o el otro
regalos míos
de los que bien te deshiciste cuando perdieron
el aura y el espesor
de lo entregado, y ya no eran
más que frágiles
objetos.
Lo real no es la torpeza de nuestras mentiras
ni los cuerpos
extraños que apenas nos atrevimos
a rozar.
No es la duda, no puede
ser la duda como tampoco
será el odio, el miedo y la fatiga.
Apuesto a que lo real es infinitamente
bello.
Hay un falso tiempo que la caída
inaugura, pero
el verdadero es la eternidad de quien se levanta
estremecido por un pálpito y ve
en la niebla.
Digo palabras.
Si pudiera sostenerme en la visión
sin
intentar
decirla.
Si pudiera que lo real no
huyese, mudo quedaría,
o recordaría solo las frases
para el agua,
el arroz,
el abrigo y la caricia.
Mudez para ti. Frases
para ti.
Porque lo real es esta viva calma,
la fijeza
de colibrí que soy cuando apareces;
la agitación
de cuando te marchas, y en las siluetas
de otros te descubro y celebro
confundido el retorno.
Lo real es el júbilo, muchacho,
la
fe
en
los
encuentros.

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