#peruvian poet

[finita--la--commedia]

yes the dark matter animated by your hand it’s me.

--  Blanca Varela (1926-2009), from “Rough Song”, translated by Carlos Lara

[mccawriting]

I'm the problem fixer papapa used to call me when the computer froze mamama used to call me when the batter was too big they used to need me im the problem now i like female skin, soft like my own i am the beautiful boil in my family's face im the problem fixer they still need me i think at night of squeezing myself out

Acne, Juan C.R

[finita--la--commedia]

This afternoon it is raining, as never before; and I have no desire to live, my heart.

César Vallejo (1892 - 1938), from “Dregs”, translated rom the Spanish by Clayton Eshleman 

[finita--la--commedia]

My flesh swims, swims in the cup of darkness still aching me; my flesh swims in her; in the marshly heart of woman.

César Vallejo (1892 - 1938), from “The Black Cup”, translated rom the Spanish by Clayton Eshleman 

[finita--la--commedia]

I will die in Paris, on a rainy day, on some day I can already remember. I will die in Paris -- and I don't step aside -- perhaps on a Thursday, as today is Thursday, in autumn.

Cesar Vallejo (1892 - 1938), from “Black Stone Lying on a White Stone”, translated from the Spanish by Robert Bly

[finita--la--commedia]

I come to see you each day, enchanted steamer always distant . . . Your eyes are two blonde captains; your lip is the smallest red kerchief waving a farewell of blood ! I come to see you pass ...

César Vallejo (1892 - 1938), from “Mainsails of ice”, translated rom the Spanish by Valentino Gianuzzi and Michael Smith

[finita--la--commedia]

There are such hard blows in life … I don’t know. Blows as if from God’s hatred. As if before them, the undertow of all we’ve suffered wells up in the soul. I don’t know.

César Abraham Vallejo Mendoza (1892– 1938), from “The Black Heralds”, translated by Dave Bonta

[finita--la--commedia]

There is, mother, a place in the world called Paris. A very big place and far and very big again.

César Vallejo (1892-1938), from “Good Sense”, translated by Clayton Eshlema