Saturday, September 01, 2007

End of Summer...

Just an uncommon lull in the traffic
so you hear some guy in an apron, sleeves rolled up,
with his brusque sweep brusque sweep of the sidewalk,
and the slap shut of a too thin rental van,
and I told him no a gust has snatched from a conversation
and brought to you, loud.
It would be so different
if any of these were missing is the feeling
you always have on the first day of autumn,
no, the first day you think of autumn, when somehow

the sun singling out high windows,
a waiter settling a billow of white cloth
with glasses and silver, and the sparrows
shattering to nowhere are the Summer
waving that here is where it turns
and will no longer be walking with you,

traveller, who now leave all of this behind,
carrying only what it has made of you.
Already the crowds seem darker and more hurried
and the slang grows stranger and stranger,
and you do not understand what you love,
yet here, rounding a corner in mild sunset,
is the world again, wide-eyed as a child
holding up a toy even you can fix.
How light your step
down the narrowing avenue to the cross streets,
October, small November, barely legible December.

James Richardson
Sé que aún es temprano, pero me gustó y ya...


Hojeando un poco me topé con algunos versos de Nezahualcóyotl....

* * *

Estoy embriagado,
lloro, me aflijo,
Pienso, digo,
En mi interior lo encuentro:
Si yo nunca muriera,
Si nunca desapareciera.

Allá donde no hay muerte,
Allá donde ella es conquista,
Que allá vaya yo…

Si yo nunca muriera,
Si yo nunca desapareciera.

* * *

¿A dónde iremos
donde la muerte no exista?
Mas, ¿por esto viviré llorando?

Que tu corazón se enderece:
Aquí nadie vivirá por siempre.
Aun los príncipes a morir vinieron,
Los bultos funerarios se queman.

Que tu corazón se enderece:
Aquí nadie vivirá para siempre.