Darío Villegas (Colombia)
Por: Darío Villegas
Traductor: Nicolás Suescún
To think life is to knit the tale of clashes and falls. The flowing back of a river near the ocean. Horror and emotion insist under each splendor of foam. We are pushed by a current of ancient voices.
Speak about my nights, Scheherazade, tell me about your landscapes and your fables.
Make of life and death a story pronounced softly. The stars peek through the window, and the hour is close in which we will be employed by the infinite accounting.
To think life is to order colors, to fuse apparitions, to devise stories, to clasp words. To oppose to the unknown a deck of tricks.
To savor the gift of acts. To survive carried by a mad desire, that runs over the boundaries of the world making metaphors about its presence.
Talk to me Scheherazade, let me hear you. This night is alone, God has gone away. Remembrances and voices return like a murmur of vast traveled distances.
One does not feel life, only silence and the fog that advances over the body.