The Ofi Press Magazine
International Poetry and Literature from Mexico City
Claridad Intacta (Selección de Poemas) II Un día imaginé que las palabras escuchaban mi llanto. Antes de eso, lloraba con desesperación porque mi cabello no era rojo y los mares habían dejado de moverse. Se acababa el agua y los árboles se secaban con rapidez. Me encontraba sola en un terreno baldío. No sabía la hora, ni siquiera veía al sol venir. Luego tomé una rama pequeña y comencé a escribir sobre la tierra seca del baldío. Las palabras empezaron a mostrarme la transformación del mundo cotidiano:
El chapulín buscando maíz
El fríjol envenenándose con cerezas Girasoles apretando mi mano izquierda Caracoles bailando sobre lentejas
Arco iris convirtiéndose en flores Elefantes cosechando libros Agua esculpiendo piedras
Cuerpos intercambiando corazones
Almas platicando con sonrisas
Y yo, escribiendo una carta gigantesca a la primavera
La palabra es mi maestra. Me lleva a ser una semilla, a germinar con poca agua, crecer y frutecer. V Escucho la voz de las palabras diciendo Pronúnciame, mírame, saboréame Contágiate, piérdete, encuéntrame Una palabra con luz Una palabra enamorada
Una palabra que moja los valles detrás del desierto Una palabra que juega ajedrez
Una palabra que domina el fuego En pleno silencio palabras en el viento Lléname de vigor
Olvídate del infierno
Busca retener el sol Báñate con rostros nuevos Despréndeme, adórame Camina radiante en el cielo Imagínate creciendo Mis palabras nacen en tu paz Libre y ligera
Vieja y renovable Lenta y esperanzada La palabra es mi voz XIII Aún recuerdo el resplandor del sol que salió ayer, reflejado en tus ojos tan serenos. Sentía el sol ardiente quemando nuestra piel, haciéndonos más morenos. Nada se ocultaba del sol, ni siquiera tu mirada. Ayer fue el día en que brillaste más que nunca. Hoy amaneció el sol sin mucho fuego. Voy caminando por las calles en busca de tu mirada brillante, pero no la encuentro. Hoy el sol ya no es el mismo que ayer, tengo el recuerdo del sol reflejado en tus ojos serenos y no se parece a lo que ahora veo. No sé si me has dejado tú, o es el sol el que hoy me ha abandonado. -- Andrea Angel (n. 1988) crece en San Miguel de Allende. En 2005 se incorpora al taller de creación literaria La Musa Hosca. Publica su primera plaquette de poesía Claridad Intacta, (Musa Hosca editura y La Luciérnaga Editores, 2008). Comparte su quehacer literario con las Relaciones Internacionales y la promoción de la lectura.
| Poems from Claridad Intacta By Andrea Angel (Published in Issue 18) Poet: Andrea Angel (1988) was born in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato. In 2005 she became part of the literary workshop, La Musa Hosca, through whom she published her first chapbook, Claridad Intacta, in 2008. She divides her time between writing, International Relations and literacy advocacy.
II
One day I imagined that words heard my cry. Before that, I sobbed with desperation because my hair wasn’t red and the seas had stopped moving. All the water ran out and the trees dried up. I found myself alone in a vacant lot. I didn’t know what time it was, or even see the sun coming. Later I took a small twig and began to write on the lot’s dry clay. Words began to show me the transformations of the everyday world. The grasshopper searching for corn The bean getting drunk on cherries Sunflowers squeezing my left hand Snails dancing on lentils Rainbow becoming flower Elephants harvesting books Water spitting rocks Bodies exchanging hearts Souls conversing with smiles and I, writing an enormous letter to spring The word is my teacher. It turns me into a seed that sprouts with little water, grows, bears fruit. V I hear the voice of words saying Pronounce me, look at me, taste me Infect yourself, lose yourself, find me A word with light A word in love A word that soaks the valleys behind the desert A word that plays chess A word that tends the fire In absolute silence words in wind Fill me with force Forget the fires of hell Search to retain sun Bathe yourself in new faces Detach from me, adore me Walk radiant in the sky Imagine yourself growing My words are born in your peace Free and light Old and renewable Slow and hoped for The word is my voice
XIII I still remember the brilliance of yesterday’s sun reflected in your serene eyes. I felt the sun burn our skin, darken us. Nothing hid from the sun, not even your gaze. Yesterday was the day you shone more than ever. Today the sun came out without much fire. I walk the streets looking for your bright gaze, but don’t find it. Today the sun is not the same as yesterday. I have the memory of the sun reflected in your serene eyes, and they don’t look like the ones I see now. I don’t know if you have left me, or if it’s the sun that has abandoned me today.
-- Translator: Laura Juliet Wood holds an M.F.A. from Columbia University and has spent the last 14 years in San Miguel de Allende writing poetry, teaching and translating. She is an associate editor at SOL Magazine. Her poems have been published in Cargoes, SOL and Solamente en San Miguel, Volume II. She was recently listed as a finalist for AROHO’s Orlando Poetry Prize. -- Photo: Abigail Denniston who is a Dublin City based, self-taught photographer. She discovered her passion 3 years ago. Her work focusses towards street and cityscape scenes and shows her great interest in capturing the unsuspecting subject. She has held a number of exhibitions in Dublin City and her work has also been published online and in hard copy most recently in the newly published Patasola Press art and literary magazine in New York, The Almanac in association KissPunchPress. Website: www.bigmulletphotography.weebly.com Email: bigmullet@gmail.com
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