Obscure Birth Poem by Gonzalo Márquez Cristo

For Pilar, a drawing in water

Aside from you, I only love what belongs to everybody . . .

I destroy my bond with the sun. My end will end up finding me.
Turned into fragments you guide me to the new flavour, the knowledge of water.
How many dreams have we not used?

You veer, you perfect yourself: you become vegetable. Your fingers fall like leaves . . .
A word is in agony. I turn blind.

None of my questions have answers, you say with amber voice. Not solitude, nor birth . . .

The eyes rebel. An ephemeral god that we must devour arises among us. Fearful, we hand over the names. We learn the first syllables. It is not possible to disbelieve in fear with its foundations, its sacred tunnels, its somber genesis, its ardent evasiveness . . .
Even though sometimes love separates us.

No one burns twice in the same fire.

Woman, bring the earth, warm yourself with its shadow. Renew yourself in the darkness, flee in your breathing . . . Do not substitute death with the writing of verticality . . .

Listen to time coming.

Translation: 2008, Nicolás Suescún