miércoles, 23 de junio de 2010

A poem. Roberto Juarroz

Roberto Juarroz a Poem
Version by Craig Czury; Esteban Moore

Craig Czury & Esteban Moore, looking at the waiter pass by with the drinks.


Between your name and mine
There’s a lip that left aside the habit of naming.

Between solitude and company
There’s a gesture that doesn’t begin in anyone and ends in all.

Between life and death
There’re some trodden plants
where no one’s ever walked.

Between the voice that passed and the voice that shall come
There’s a hushed form of voice
there where everything is on its feet.

Between the table and the void
There’s a line that is the table and the void
where the poem can barely walk.

Between thought and blood
There’s a brief bolt of lightning
where on the tip love stands on its own.

Nobody can be
over those edges for a long time,
not even god, that other edge,
can be god for a long time.

Vertical Poetry (1958)

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