Versión de HTML Básico
formando el
mosaico
[ 11 ]
Ilustración: Valery Rocha Cortés, alumna de la Licenciatura en Diseño en Ineracción y Animación Digital
Por Pablo Piceno Hernández, alumno de la Licenciatura en Literatura y Filosofía
Integer tempus
la temporalità atemporalità / temporal itálica alicaída / tempo realtà / malta salta / falta palta / sálvanos
señor y tocaremos nuestras arpas/ tlapa guerrero el departamento paupérrimo / acérrimo rival moral del capital
ex-témpore / bien por ellos que amarran el tiempo / a sus muñecas.
The Vaste Land
You gave me hyacinths first a month ago
they called me the month ago boy
they sang a prelude of the Budapest Orchestra
Have you ever heard Ravel played by the
Budapest Orchestra?
Three hundred voices with their own character, Anne,
schöne Magd aus Plankton.
Time was to them what this hyacinth has been to my hand since
-I’m just being dumb, but honestly
I think of you
when nonsense does its bloom on my courage
and my heart nourishes nothing but fear
and the loose of time reveals its extent,
I think of you then as gravity-fled wet air balloons
as the hyacinth you gave me months ago
as the plancton lonesome being
grief-struttin’-sugar-coated-box-of-lame-
petit-mort-porticum-mortis
holy shit, Anne
dear Anne
éolienne sensuelle
there is no such love like the crap of imagination
blessed are you who do not know how time-stroked i’ve been since
those first kisses reasonably
-mince your words, old Paul-
opposing opium
“
Sky can be blue / I don’t mind
without you it’s a waste of time”
Chris Martin, Guy Berryman, Jonny Buckland, Will Champion,
Strawberry Swing
“La tierra tiene bordes de féretro en la sombra”
César Vallejo,
La copa negra
(Holofernes capitulated, I mean, towards a woman’s flesh)
time went broke since
since then my heart has lost its particles of time / its veil
i am not scaremongering / i thought since:
there must be much more than what we call time / as we can’t
have
a hyacinth / a month / a Ravel chord and a
éolienne sensuelle
-are you laughing?-
in the palm of our harvest / our amnesty / honesty / doomsday
when i hear your torn queer eyes no-one-will-ever-mourn /
nobody-ever-will-see-die
(that corpse you planted last month in my garden
it has begun to sprout / its blooming now!)
the sudden frost
i wish could know your queer eyes
i wish they killed the hills of death
i wish the wish of nottin’
but eternity.
Nota: la redacción forma parte del estilo del autor.