carlos yorbin

Rookie - 34 Points (Colombia / Medellin)

Moon-Day Mourning - Poem by carlos yorbin

MOON-DAY MOURNING
Your little winning streak. And summoned now to deal with your invincible defeat, you live your life as if it's real, a thousand kisses deep. Leonard Cohen
From the vacuity,
a minor light is born, not the truth,
ruinous decor that fortifies my solitude,
and I repeat the triumph of the melancholy,
the faces in front of the mirror, stoical.
II
Far from this sun and its sex,
far from these broken words that prolong me,
I wait for another gesture, another skin,
reach a nameless voice,
dwell a place without predictable landscapes,
keep close to the silence.
III
A common ocean the final pages,
suspicious all quays,
only death could put end to this hurtful game,
my torment is no longer a shield;
I quit the hours,
also the alphabets,
the mask falls,
I'm back to the darkness,
to the essence, the end I wait.

©
Du la vacuité une lumière mineur naît,
pas la vérité,
ruineux décor que fortifie ma solitude,
et je répète le triomphe de la mélancolie,
les visages devant le miroir,
stoïque.
II
Loin du soleil et de son sexe,
loin ces mots pourris qui me prolongent,
j'attends un autre geste, une autre peau,
arriver à une voix sans nom.
a un endroit
sans paysages prévisibles,
à un silence plein.
III
océan commun les dernières pages,
douteux tous les quais,
seulement la mort pourrait mettre fin
à ce pénible jeu,
mon tourment n'est plus un bouclier;
renonce aux heures,
aussi aux alphabets,
la masque tombe,
je reviens à l'ombre, à l'essence,
la fin j'attends.
©
Della vacuità nasce una incerta luce, non la verità,
rovinoso scenario che fortifica la mia solitudine,
e ripeto il trionfo della malinconia,
i visi davanti allo specchio,
stoico.
II
Lontano da questo sole e dal suo sesso,
Lontano da quelle deteriorate parole che mi prolungano,
aspetto un altro gesto, un'altra pelle,
arrivare ad una voce senza nome,
ad un luogo senza paesaggi prevedibili,
ad un solido silenzio.
III
Oceano comune le ultime pagine,
dubbiosi tutti i porti;
soltanto la morte potrebbe porre fine
a questo penoso gioco,
il mio tormento non è più un scudo,
rinuncio alle ore, agli alfabeti anche,
la maschera cade,
torno all'ombra, a ll'essenza,
la fine aspetto.
©
De la vacuidad nace una incierta luz,
no la verdad,
ruinoso decorado que fortifica mi soledad;
y repito el triunfo de la melancolía,
los rostros delante del espejo,
estoico.
II
Lejos de este sol y su sexo,
y de estas estropeadas palabras que me prolongan,
espero otro gesto, otra piel,
llegar a una voz sin nombre,
a un lugar sin previsibles paisajes,
a un sólido silencio.
III
océano común las páginas finales,
dudosas todas las costas,
sólo la muerte podría poner fin
a este doloroso juego;
ya no es un escudo mi tormento,
renuncio a las horas, también a los alfabetos,
cae la máscara,
regreso a la sombra,
a la esencia,
el final espero.

Topic(s) of this poem: love and life


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Poem Edited: Tuesday, August 15, 2017


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