lunes, 7 de febrero de 2011

The dream of the catfish

The dream of the catfish

My childhood smells like guava
Like milk guava
Like red guava
Like sour guava from Cartago*

My childhood smells like dung
Like turd and like cow
Like ripened badeas and curubas
Like rawhide, cornmeal, sweet cream and milk

My childhood feels
Like a permanent surprise
Like a cold dread at the river
Like a happy trip to Nevado del Ruiz

My childhood is the story of a catfish
That dreams of a boy
Who will always try to catch it
Each time him returns in dreams to Cartago

In a pond with lots of turtles, herons, mosquitoes and mud
But he will never do it
Because his nylon always breaks
Or because he is waked up to another strange world

As I write this
I can imagine the Catfish dreaming
Under the aquatic lilies
Above the mud

Under the last sunlight of today
At the end of twilight
Gobbling the tilapias
That are dreaming of it

Translation of my poem “El sueño del bagre”