Nilton Santiago: Three poems translated by Omar Pinero

Μάρκος Μέσκος, (αν δεν σ’ ανταμώσω τίποτε δεν είμαι…)

Constantine Cavafy – Poems

SINCE NINE O’CLOCK

Twelve thirty. Time has gone by quickly

since nine o’clock when I lit the lamp

and sat down here. I sat without reading,

and without speaking. Whom would I speak to

alone in this house?

The vision of my youthful body

has come and visited me since nine o’clock

when I lit the lamp and has recalled

closed rooms full of fragrance

and lost carnal pleasure—what bold pleasure!

And it also brought before my eyes,

roads that are now unrecognizable,

taverns full of action that have closed,

and theaters and coffee bars that no longer exist.

The vision of my youthful body

also brought me sad memories;

family mourning, separations,

feelings about loved ones, emotions

of the dead so little appreciated.

Half past twelve. How time has gone by.

Half past twelve. How the years went by.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1723961833

Unfulfilled

Pending
You are unreachable
You seem uncertain
Why don’t we end this
I am such a burden
I would never end it
Except that, for you
Wouldn’t make you suspend it
Just enable you to
You wouldn’t start a thing
Nor be all-ending
Thus this fine connection
Remains – status: pending
Unchecked
Just leave me unchecked
I’ll grow up
To be the object
Of your love

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763688

Είαι αυτή η Δύση μοναδική;

Omed Qarani, Ορφέας σε έναν άλλο Άδη

Missa Bestialis

De Toto Corpore
he bewails
and stretches his neck forward
in his dilated nostrils
the dense air disperses
in and out
the thickly whiteness in his nose
freezes when he reaches the cold bars
with his tongue ruckles
smacks his lips
on his bloody eyes voluptuously
his bushy eyebrow falls
until the drop of saline
drools towards it
his false delight
he slobbers extensively
and chokes up
near the eyelid wide open
luringly shimmers
the salt ball
within his hazy desire grows
and nears
his entire body shaking
when the taste numbs him
voluptuously his moving tongue

his numb body
his voluptuous pain
goes through his limb
he lifts his head
languidly he stretches
allowing buzzing flies
to swirl around
his goopy eye

Yannis Ritsos – Poems, Volume V

Vernal Noon

How is it that carts pass along the seashore road

loaded again with bags made of paper and filled with

sulphur? (They will put sulphur on the grapevines

the day after tomorrow. They will leave a plate

of grapes on the window ledge. How is it, that we hear

the thuds of hammering wood from the shipyard again?

An oar gleams at the far end. A woman shakes a colourful

blanket off the balcony. And this old man, with a long

cane, whips the air serenely, hunting a big, invisible

bird with square wings.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763726

Μάρκος Μέσκος, (Τώρα ξέρω πώς θα πεθάνουμε…

Αλέξανδρος Σάντο Τιχομίρ, Εύοσμο σκοτάδι