José Zuleta Ortiz

José Zuleta Ortiz Poems

The doorkeeper
shows the place to the lovers,
waits for the car to go in,
closes the gate . . .
tired
late at night
she dozes among moans,
the music of pleasure,
whimpers, chokings . . .
She dreams: a young man sings to her,
she dreams about his joy, she breathes in his laughter,
her waters burn
a flight goes over her,
the choir of happy wails
wakes her,
she no longer knows if that sound of bliss is hers.
...

I have seen them dejected
under the sheet of some neighbor
the acts of silence already hidden,
free from the designs of heaven,
the pauseless flight finished.
The rapid fury calmed down.
The tattoes and scars
medals of their brief career,
serene, placid in sum, covered
by a shroud of silence,
I have seen the boys
in the peace of the pavement.
...

Les he visto abatidos
bajo la sábana de alguna vecina
ocultos ya los actos del silencio
libres de los designios del cielo
la huída sin pausa concluida.
La veloz furia sosegada.
Los tatuajes y las cicatrices
medallerías de la breve carrera,
serenos, afín plácidos, cubiertos
por el sudario del silencio
he visto a los muchachos
en la paz del pavimento
...

It climbs down a thread . . .

Up in the air
it knits transparency,

it catches flights in its knitting
and shrouds with light silks
the victims of its invisible skill.

The day dawns,

rain and sun
make of its net a great lamp:
hanging from the threads of air
a thousand drops catch the light,
the collar of liquid beads shimmers,

scratching the air,
the miracle freely climbs up a thread.
...

En un hilo desciende . . .

Instalada en el aire
teje la transparencia,

atrapa vuelos en la urdimbre
y amortaja con sedas claras,
las víctimas de su ingenio invisible.

Amanece,

la lluvia y el sol
han hecho de su red una gran lámpara:
pendiendo de los hilos del aire
miles de gotas atrapan la luz,
el collar de cuentas líquidas relumbra,

arañando el aire
por una hebra libre sube al milagro.
...

for Horacio Benavides
Ships in which days travel

fire on which days are cooked

mild season

shelter of open spaces

in its restored light

words flower


On fresh tiles

new steps go by

the domestic breeze on the patio

entertains the afternoon

in man are
the rice footsteps of the ring dove

the boy's hands
are made of music

Pablo's voice knows
the bright red skirting

and the whitewashed upper part.


The house, mild season

of serene hours

of things forgotten and of brightness

of late arrivals . . .

reason wavers
morning harbours ravings

maybe it will stop raining in the afternoon

maybe the sun will sprinkle the flowers,

back there
someone sings,
the empty cage

a frightened shadow

in one's breast

a heart touches the silk.
...

A Horacio Benavides
Nave donde viajan los sueños

fuego donde se cocinan los días

mansa estación

amparo de intemperies

en su luz restaurada

florecen las palabras


Sobre frescas baldosas

nuevos pasos pasan

la brisa doméstica en el patio

entretiene la tarde

están en el hombre
las pisadas de arroz de la torcaza

las manos del muchacho
son de música

la voz de Pablo conoce
los zócalos bermejos

y las blancas alturas encaladas.


La casa, mansa estación

de horas serenas

de olvidos y fulgores

de llegadas tardías . . .

la razón oscila
abraza desvaríos la mañana

tal vez la lluvia escampará en la tarde

tal vez el sol riegue las flores,

al fondo
cantan,
la jaula vacía

una sombra asustada

en el pecho

un corazón toca la seda.
...

La portera
indica el lugar a los amantes,
espera a que el auto entre,
cierra la puerta . . .
cansada
en el fondo de la noche
dormita entre gemidos,
música de placeres,
quejumbres, ahogamientos . . .
sueña: Un muchacho le canta,
sueña su alegría y su risa respirándola,
sus aguas se incendian
un vuelo la recorre
el coro de felices lamentos
la despierta,
no sabe ya, si será de ella el sonido de esa dicha.
...

The girl goes to the conjugal visit
a treasure hidden in her womb,
after the seal is stamped on her wrist
she goes through the first door,
the hands of a watchman touch her
he looks at her breast,
he check her buttocks, inspects her sex,
They let her go on . . .
She arrives to the second door.
She says the name of her man.
He comes to fetch her.
In the cell they take out from her inside
an exquisite substance.
They smoke it . . . they frolic
He seals her with his lips
looks at her breast,
the hands that waited touch her,
check her buttocks, inspect her sex
she goes through the door, they say their names
and something frees itself . . .
The girl comes out of the conjugal visit,
not knowing she has a treasure hidden in her womb.
...

La muchacha va a la visita conyugal
lleva un tesoro oculto en su vientre
después de ser sellada
pasa la primera puerta,
manos de centinela la tocan
le miran los pechos,
revisan sus nalgas, requisan su sexo,
La dejan seguir . . .
Llega a la segunda puerta.
Pronuncia el nombre de su hombre,
él viene por ella.
En la celda sacan de su adentro
una sustancia exquisita.
La fuman . . . retozan
Él la sella con sus labios
mira sus pechos,
las manos que aguardaron la tocan
revisa sus nalgas, requisa su sexo
traspasa la puerta, pronuncian sus nombres,
algo se libera . . .
La muchacha sale de la visita conyugal,
no sabe que lleva un tesoro oculto en su vientre.
...

Here, while the night blazes
I understand: I was only
one more crew member
of your splendid body
cast adrift.
...

Aquí, mientras arde la noche
comprendo: sólo fui
un tripulante más
de tu espléndido cuerpo
que viaja a la deriva.
...

Many years ago
squirrels went
from the Caribbean coast
to the Pacific coast
from branch to branch
without touching the ground.
This was when the trees
were playing hand in hand
at ring a ring o' roses.
...

Hace años
las ardillas viajaban
de la costa atlántica
a la costa pacífica,
de rama en rama
sin bajar al suelo.
Era cuando los árboles
estaban tomados de las manos
jugando a la ronda de los bosques
...

The Best Poem Of José Zuleta Ortiz

SANTA BARBARA MOTEL

The doorkeeper
shows the place to the lovers,
waits for the car to go in,
closes the gate . . .
tired
late at night
she dozes among moans,
the music of pleasure,
whimpers, chokings . . .
She dreams: a young man sings to her,
she dreams about his joy, she breathes in his laughter,
her waters burn
a flight goes over her,
the choir of happy wails
wakes her,
she no longer knows if that sound of bliss is hers.

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