Anestecia

Que te parece si obscurece

y en vez del arranque furtivo

te petrificas como los dioses

Si caen los niños

y las diversiones pasan

Si en vez del llanto o la risa

solo viven la muerte

Es allí donde mueves la cabeza

preguntando por alguna anestesia

CasR (1994)

KUBLA KAHN

Portrait of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

Portrait of  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
Pieter van Dyke

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills

Where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

 

But O, that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced;

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:

And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reach'd the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

 

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

 

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer she play'd,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me,

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight 'twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

 

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise. 

 

 Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

Cambridge

30 de Marzo (Ich habe dich gesucht)

El oscuro de los ojos

el temblor en las voces

todo devorándome

no importa que profundo caiga

anda y abre la puerta

Las coincidencias te observan

tras las ventanas donde llueve siempre

ve a la esquina y no vuelvas el rostro

La calle suplica vomitando su gris saliva

debo siempre lavarme las manos

no debo hablar con desconocidos

no puedo mirar el sol

Un paso puede estrangular un sueño

mover horizontes, unir universos, señalar cansancio

puede transgredir rocas, profanar templos, dictar destinos

no puedo volver  a quejarme

Pronto; trae a todos tus planetas

no olvides las viejas voces

que revolotean en el cajón

ni la historia que teje la araña

Sin voluntad

anda y abre la puerta

CasR (2006)