Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín

JOSÉ LUIS RIVAS México, 1951

THE NORTH

I am the wind that removes the foam from the breakers,
who ripples at a gallop the white mane of water,
who deafens with sea’ squalls and blows that sea shell
   shaped as a cove.
I am the herd of seals on the ice floe, mooing in the light
  of the moon,
the sombre silhouette of the escarp with a beard of cormorants
and boobies,
serrated by the blacklighting of the twilight, like a celestial key.

The brief rainbow haloing the mast waves that beat
   against the cliffs,
the lily of the waters on the deck of the shipwrecked barge
  half sunk in the channel.

I am the carp concealed in a crack of the jetty,
showing his lank moustache at low tide,
I’m the curved stroke of the tuna just beneath the waters
   in the estuary...

 

Translated by Tjebbe Donner and Rafael Patiño

Site Map
Gulliver: