NaturalmenteUn claro en las nubes.
El macizo perfil de las montañas azules que recortan el horizonte.
El amarillo apagado de los rastrojos.
El río muy negro.
¿Qué estoy haciendo en este lugar,solo y cargado de culpas?
Me pregunto.
Sigo comiendo las frambuesas de la fuente.
Sin hacerme problemas. Si estuviera muerto,me recuerdo, no podría saborearlas.Nada es tan simple.Sí, todo es así de simple. Naturalmente.
trad.Esteban Moore
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An afternoon
As he writes, without looking at the sea,
he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.
The tide is going out across the shingle.
But it isn't that. No,
it's because at that moment she chooses
to walk into the room without any clothes on.
Drowsy, not even sure where she is
for a moment. She waves the hair from her forehead.
Sits on the toilet with her eyes closed,
head down. Legs sprawled. He sees her
through the doorway. Maybe
she's remembering what happened that morning.
For after a time, she opens one eye and looks at him.
And sweetly smiles.
Raimondo Carverinni
La literatura es una mercancía demasiado cara.
"la prehistoria me dará la razón" (G. Bush)
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