Bilingual Edition. Translated from the Spanish by Daniel Borzutzky. It was filled with hundreds of niches, one over the other. There is a country in each one; they're like boys, they're dead. Of the role of poetry and of his own treatment by the military under this regime, Zurita has said, "You see, the only thing that told me that I wasn't crazy, that I wasn't living in a nightmare, was this file of poems, and then when they threw them into the sea, then I understood exactly what was happening. Read more Read less.
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About Poetry International Archives. Unos sobre otros decenas de nichos los llenaban. Miles de cruces llenaban hasta el fin el campo. No queda nada. Ay, grandes glaciares se acercan, grandes glaciares sobre los techos de nuestro amor. Donde yacen los viejos galpones, las paredes muy altas con torres de T. Marcaron a los muchachos y a bayonetazos les cortaron el pelo. Pero son lindos. Yo me enamoro de ellos, me regio y me pinto entera. Grandes glaciares vienen a llevarse ahora los restos de nuestro amor.
Grandes glaciares vienen a tragarse los nichos de nuestro amor. De lejos parecen bloques. Aullando dentro de los fantasmales galpones de concreto. Son como Dios. Ahora me buscan pobres viejos ateridos. Grandes glaciares vienen a recogerlos. Desiertos de amor. Como la noche. Mis amigos sollozaban dentro de los viejos galpones de concreto. Los muchachos aullaban. Mira tiene un buen culo. Ellas no conocen los malditos galpones de concreto.
Ellas son. Yo vengo con mis amigos sollozando. Yo vengo de muchos lugares. Yo vengo llorando. Fumo y pongo con los chicos. Es bueno para ver colores. El hombro cortado me sangraba y era el olor raro la sangre. Dando vuelta se ven los dos enormes galpones. Marcas de T. I sang. I sang about love, with my face soaked I sang about love and the boys they smiled at me. I sang harder, with passion, the dream and tears.
I sang the song about the old concrete warehouses. One on top of the other dozens of niches filled them. They all lay there, black countries, Africa and wetbacks. I sang like this to them about love sorrow to the countries. Thousands of crosses filled the countryside. All her enamored woman this is how I sang. It all ended. Oh, great glaciers close in, great glaciers ceilings over our love. Eh raspy girl, my lovely boy cried out, the dinosaurs are waking up. The helicopters come down and down.
Where the old warehouses are, the real high walls with TV towers. You could end up on those screens, oh yes my love. In my dreams I turn the dial and there you are in black and white. Listen friends — I yelled out — those times have passed already. They just laughed at me. They marked the guys and with bayonet blows cut their hair. You smoke pot? You sniff neoprene? What kind of shit you smoke dirty red? With all that I go on the rag when I see them, wet my bed and smoke.
I fall in love with them, do myself up and paint my whole face. Drenched in tears I say hello, but everyone today dreams the dream of death, oh yes pretty boy. Great glaciers come now to take away the remains of our love. Great glaciers come to swallow the niches of our love. The niches are one in front of the other. From far off they look like blocks. Over there I got to know colors and saw the True God yelling inside the freezing concrete warehouses, howling inside the phantom concrete warehouses, getting completely soaked in the not possible concrete warehouses.
I went all over the place and saw my parents without even leaving. Now they look for me my poor folks, scared to death. Knocking us up with thick spits, together, young and old we will be broken. Great glaciers come to collect them. My girl died, my boy died, they all disappeared. Deserts of love. Like days. Like the night. All my love is here and here it stays: Bound to the rocks the sea and the mountains. Bound, bound to the rocks the sea and the mountains. I went all over. My friends sobbed inside the old concrete warehouses.
The kids howled. Come on, we got to where they said — I yelled to my pretty boy. My face dripping the gentlemen came with me. Only the crosses could be seen and the two old warehouses covered by something.
From one bayonet blow they clipped my shoulder and I felt my arm as I fell to the grass. Then with it they beat my friends. They went on and on but when they began to strike my parents I ran to the urinal to throw up. Immense prairies formed with each heave, the clouds breaking the sky and the hills coming on. But my love is still bound on the rocks, the sea and the mountains.
But my love I tell you, is still stuck on the rocks, the sea and mountains. They are them. I come with my friends sobbing. I come from all over. I smoke and hook up with the guys.
Just some old fashioned hook up. Of course — said the guard, you have to yank the cancer from its root, oh yes, oh yes My sliced up shoulder bled and the blood it was foul. If you turn around you can see the two huge warehouses. Marks of TNT, guards and thick barbed wire cover its broken glass. Bound, bound to the rocks, to the sea and the mountains.
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Song for His Disappeared Love/Canto a Su Amor Desaparecido
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Canto a su amor desaparecido