Loustau AMSTERDAM AMSTERDAM-BUENOS AIRES-
Anne Frank, my colleagues there.
in my childhood I found in my own illnesses
and family disasters.
imagined you walking / a Sunday /
in a small boat /
the mists of Amsterdam /
while I drowned in the fog
of the south. I heard your voice
small /
and wrapped in a silk handkerchief.
watched as we grew
skin so smooth / transparent wafer
on a pubis that was dark.
I lost and found you
between
wire radiating light with your heart. I saw
light / like a star in crystals.
accompanied me in my disasters
most incorruptible /
fingers smoke
soul held me in the desolate days of the jackal.
we will someday /
flaunted our appearance distracted /
entering a bar /
in Amsterdam or in Buenos Aires /
and embrace all your friends /
in a final toast.
Silvia Loustau. Poet, writer, essayist and translator born in Mar del Plata, where he lives. He studied at the Universidad Nacional de La Plata. Coordinator of literary workshops. Member of the Union Association of Writers and Poets Hispanic World. Won major awards including First Prize for Fiction National Center for Latin American Editor (1973), Honor Strip unpublished work, SEP, La Plata (1975), First Honorable Mention for "Birds Glass, Secretary of Culture February 3 (2008), among others. His work appears in anthologies in the country and abroad and has been translated into French, Catalan, Bulgarian and Sardinian. About "From sea and mothers "said Osvaldo Picardo:" We heard [...] a voice that is different from other female voices, all too common in our time, who are silent or talked of the sea, its matching rhetoric and misunderstandings that braid pictures from the late modernism Alfonsina Storni and is limited to repeat and multiply the romantic cliches of the 40 Argentine. This book [...] opens itself testimony to prayer, their virtuality resides in being poetry of unanswered questions, continuity of the long prayer of man on earth. "Other poems: " Mandala "," Mirror of days "," The metabolism of tears. "
John Silvia Alberto Cajal JOURNEY OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS
The city will grow by stealing pigeons
silence insomnia, starting
violets in your laughter, waving
, tuff sad
all flags in your absence.
A history of broken lights,
of
bloodless wars galaxies will slow late in the memory.
trees Wave memory,
evoking the marshes to sleep naked
your journey without stopping. Creature
unbraided forgotten, desolate Aboriginal
dislocated a remote time, I
fire burns your skin at the dawn
terrible, brown
nostalgia.
I know that quiet and just wove
,
with the wind and clouds,
a magical poem of hope. I know your tears
gagged
ideal of delaying drown you,
the country of your dreams virgin ash
fact destinations.
shadow of thy mutation
attest,
of tigers tearing you
these peoples inhabit gaps in your eyes. Indian
cloudy hardened
be strange architecture,
where they come from your adventures
bird reborn flagellates,
music, dance
, green tentacle
love and this love of climbing
lost the vertices of the stars. Aged
fugitives fish your heart bursts into dawns
fruit and anxious, intoxicated
quasars and distances.
I know it is getting late and it rained
your children
all suns and moons;
languish
the centuries and the daggers of your tears
traveled to the slow time lapachos
of heaven.
And I know my country
Indian
your pain restless
infinite and alone, made love
passion.
Ramón Alberto Cajal (1942-2002). Poet and teacher born in Resistencia, Chaco province. He has won prizes in several poetry competitions: First Prize unpublished (1977), second mention of Aboriginal Contest (1978), 2 nd prize Chaco SADE (1979) and 5 th National Magazine Award "Reply" (1981), among others. "From Juan Gelman Roque Dalton, from Silvio to Zitarrosa from Santoro to Cardinal, history gives us writers who are committed to writing history, that put the body behind every word and every word is lucid and passionate, critical and creative. Cajal opened the way to thought, poetry, the living body and even today, with his dead body, opens up "Mario said of his poetry Caparra. Book of Poems:" One oil calendar.
