Blue moon

I saw something
That spark in your eyes
When I caught your sight before you looked away from me.
I felt the inevitalibilty of that accidental touch
that you doubted
just for one second.
You smiled when I asked
You did not ask when I smiled.
Then everything was guilt in the air
Just one "If only" drawn on my lips.
Devastating burden of a happy life
was calling you from far away.

We'll meet again.
One of these blue moons.

Ships in flames

Renuncia a ver arder las naves que has encendido

El tiempo las consumirá. No los cerillos arrojados.

La postrera satisfacción será
el humo asfixiante en tu nariz, el sordo crepitar.

Pero la visión de la destrucción te está vedada.

La mujer de Lot no fue castigada por su dios más que por su memoria.
Llueve fuego sobre Sodoma y ni siquiera dios puede mirar atrás.

La lluvia cesa. Las llamas se retiran del escenario.
La selva oscura retoma su trono
como un dios que no puede amar u odiar.
Sin anhelar o temer,

marchar o morir.

La página que no mancha tus manos cuando la acaricias
es la que está siempre en blanco.

Ch.D.

दुर्गा

Once upon a time the male gods gave a boon to a minor demon, Mahisasura, to the effect that he could only be killed at the hands of a naked female. They thereby turned Mahisasura into a major demon capable terrorizing all the male gods. In order to destroy the demon, the male gods pooled all their energy and powers to create the godess Durga and arm her with their own weapons. On their behalf, they sent Durga into battle against Mahisasura, but they neglected to tell her about the boon. She fought bravely, but could not kill the demon; he was too strong and clever. In desperation, Durga appealed for guidance from an auspicious godess, who let her in on the secret. 

So Durga did as she was advised to (she stripped), and within seconds after Mahisasura saw her naked, his strenght waned and he died under her sword. After killing him a terrible rage entered Durga's mind, and she asked herself: "What kind of gods are these that give to demons such boons, and apart from that what kind of gods are these that they do not have the honesty to tell me the truth before sending me into battle?" Durga felt humiliated by her nakedness and by the deceit. She decided that such a world with such gods did not deserve to survive; she took on the form of Kali and went on a mad rampage, devouring every living creature that came in her way.

La función

Munch. Women in three stages.

Desde antes de nacer
Tenías el palco de honor
A esta hora en punto.
Actores desfilando, clamando, sufriendo
haciendo sufrir
Recibiendo la ovación del olvido,
tu indulgente aplauso.
Muriendo en el escenario
para revivir (no todos)
tras bastidores
¿Quién superará el talento de la actriz
que no sabe que lo es?

El sol de la tarde se cierne sobre tu piel
Le quita al decorado sus colores
los actores se cansan
los parlamentos caducan
otra función espera.
Emprendes sola el camino a casa.
La ficción no ha sido en vano:
Siempre queda como souvenir
algún despojo en el escenario.

He evoked her then...

 I

Every night since then

I sit on that couch

With crossed fingers on my knees

And the head sunken into the shoulders

The couch is colored in red hunger

The hall is spacious like a mind with no thoughts

Like a clock that does not tell us the time.

I rehearse that moment again

Suddenly I notice how this couch suddenly sinks right next to me

And I do not need to turn around

To hear two heartbeats in collision course

To feel a heat wave on my lips.
Just before the hall, the couch and the world itself
be consummated.

II

Walking down by this shore

No ships, no footsteps
as far as the eye can see.

Overwhelmed by the scent in the air

Tobacco, fine soap, perfume

 your salty absence.

This sea is infinite like your hideous blanket

That you could push from the inside forever

Never seeing its seams.

But voyager's hope and fear belong to the fixed stars

Not to the sea itself.

You never know what eastern wind could bring

One of these nights.

ChD.

7/6/1914

"And among the coldness of the sea..."

I spent the whole night without sleeping, seeing her form without a break,
And seeing her always in a different way from meeting her. . .
I make thoughts with the memory of what she is when she talks to me,
And in each thought she changes according to her likeness.
To love is to think.

And I almost forget to feel only from thinking about her.
I don’t know what I want at all, even from her, and I don’t think about anything but her.
I have a great animated distraction.
When I want to meet her,
I almost feel like not meeting her,
So I don’t have to leave her afterwards.

And I prefer thinking about her, because it’s like I’m afraid of her.
I don’t know what I want at all, and I don’t want to know what I want. 
All I want to do is think about her.
I’m asking nothing of nobody, not even her.
Except to think.

Fernando Pessoa

The Silence of the Sirens

Proof that inadequate, even childish measures, may serve to rescue one from peril.

To protect himself from the Sirens, Ulysses stopped his ears with wax and had himself bound to the mast of his ship. Naturally any and every traveller before him could have done the same, except those whom the Sirens allured even from a great distance; but it was known to all the world that such things were of no help whatever. The song of the Sirens could pierce through everything, and the longing of those they seduced would have broken far stronger bonds than chains and masts. But Ulysses did not think of that, although he had probably heard of it. He trusted absolutely to his handful of wax and his fathom of chain, and in innocent elation over his little stratagem sailed out to meet the Sirens.

Now the Sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence. And though admittedly such a thing has never happened, still it is conceivable that someone might possibly have escaped from their singing; but from their silence certainly never. Against the feeling of having triumphed over them by one's own strength, and the consequent exaltation that bears down everything before it, no earthly powers could have remained intact.

And when Ulysses approached them the potent songstresses actually did not sing, whether because they thought that this enemy could be vanquished only by their silence, or because of the look of bliss on the face of Ulysses, who was thinking of nothing but his wax and his chains, made them forget their singing.

But Ulysses, if one may so express it, did not hear their silence; he thought they were singing and that he alone did not hear them. For a fleeting moment he saw their throats rising and falling, their breasts lifting, their eyes filled with tears, their lips half-parted, but believed that these were accompaniments to the airs which died unheard around him. Soon, however, all this faded from his sight as he fixed his gaze on the distance, the Sirens literally vanished before his resolution, and at the very moment when they were nearest to him he knew of them no longer.

But they--lovelier than ever--stretched their necks and turned, let their cold hair flutter free in the wind, and forgetting everything clung with their claws to the rocks. They no longer had any desire to allure; all that they wanted was to hold as long as they could the radiance that fell from Ulysses' great eyes.

If the Sirens had possessed consciousness they would have been annihilated at that moment. But they remained as they had been; all that had happened was that Ulysses had escaped them.

A codicil to the foregoing has also been handed down. Ulysses, it is said, was so full of guile, was such a fox, that not even the goddess of fate could pierce his armour. Perhaps he had really noticed, although here the human understanding is beyond its depths, that the Sirens were silent, and opposed the afore-mentioned pretence to them and the gods merely as a sort of shield.

Franz Kafka

Drizzling

Thirty-one days ago
After to show me for the last time
How little I knew you
You said goodbye in that dawning overground station.
I never turned to look back neither.
I wouldn't have seen anything anyway.
The lights of our first sight were covered by clouds.
Again.
You did not ask me any personal question
I was still confused or embarrased to speak louder
Too haggard or too in love.
You did not see my eyes as my face was down
their secret drizzling.
Veteran in a war I'd never fight
I walked the line slowly
As the sun behind the rain.
Then I was like a child in your arms and you knew it.
They are too open to hug, I guess.
Now I realized how far my mind was from you
and how unreachable feelings
can only be brought by unreachable beings.
Yes. Unreachable
Even for themselves.

cH.

The Middle of Nowhere

Su mente apenas evacuada lentamente entendió.

Sus ojos entrecerrados lo supieron primero.

Siempre quedará esta noche

que a todos desnuda

perdona

y ultima.

ChD.

La Petite Mort

0:00

Vine al mundo en una habitación contigua a una sala de espera. Quizás nunca he salido de aquella sala, no poblada ya por padres felizmente preocupados, sino por infinitos tintos y tragos, libros y artículos de revistas para pasar el tiempo, pasos apurados que buscan habitaciones y esperanzas, pasos lentos que intentan recobrar la realidad, batas blancas que portan buenas y  malas noticias, rostros sumidos en el estupor o la euforia, llamadas perdidas y en espera, sábanas límpidas que cubren miserias, ventanas que nunca se abrirán, soles fríos y cetrinos hechos de gases inertes.

Probablemente pasaste a mi lado por casualidad y, por un instante, mi rostro te pareció extrañamente familiar. Probablemente te sentaste junto a mí. Sonreíste. Uno de los dos habló del mal servicio o del mal tiempo; nos presentamos. Conversamos sobre lo que nos había traído hasta ahí, tratando de hacer que no importara ya. Luego recordaste tener asuntos más urgentes. No estaba en mis manos impedirlo ni en las tuyas obviarlo. Olvidaste esa fugaz conversación al recordar que podías irte cuando quisieras.
Ocurrió en alguna febril intermitencia entre el sueño y el delirio. Luego, la irrealidad fue completa.

El intemporal vigilante me despierta. No puedo adivinar su edad, pero sus ojos son los de quien ya lo ha visto todo. Toca mi hombro y me pasa la cuenta de cobro por mi lugar en la sala. He sobrevivido para pagar una cuota más. Me despide con una tibia mueca y se ocupa del siguiente acreedor.  Espero poder diferir la deuda hasta que el último pago sea puesto bajo mi lengua.
Si todos en esta sala somos sus acreedores, quizás, por azar, alguien sin saberlo tenga en su bolsillo algún saldo a mi favor.

ChD.

A Splintered Labyrinth I

I have dreamt you. I dreamt that I was sleeping and you woke me up. With half-opened eyes, I've seen your green and yellow lights at the darkest hour. Thorough the window (or a looking glass?), I couldn't believe my eyes. I saw your flashing face overshading the watchful past. It was trembling. It was dreamt-sight love.

El Enemigo

En la cumbre de su gloria, Roald Amundsen se sume en la depresión al saber -y quizás envidiar- el trágico destino del capitán Robert Falcon Scott. La cólera de Alejandro ordena la ejecución de los asesinos de Darío. David rasga sus vestiduras al saber que Saúl suplicó por su propia muerte. El Emperador no musita palabra al enterarse de que nunca verá al almirante Nelson a los ojos. Todos temieron y odiaron (valga la redundancia) a su enemigo. Anhelaron el día de la victoria y clamaron a sus dioses para que su mano ganase el derecho a ultimarlos.

Ese día nunca llegó.

Lloraron al saber que con su enemigo moría una parte de sí mismos, acaso la más valerosa, acaso la única digna de ser recordada; una parte que no podrían recuperar ni aniquilar por sí mismos.
No hay enemigos eternos, porque tarde o temprano todo hombre se percata de que amistad y enemistad son sólo accidentes, tan irrevocables como todos los demás. Y al final de los tiempos, cuando se apague la luz que emana el hijo de la aurora, dios ya no sabrá quién es.

Tiempo y dolor consumieron la osadía y dignidad que otrora quise saquear. Afilé mi espada cada día y prefiguré este duelo en la penumbra, sólo para que las ruinas de su cuerpo yaciente me conmovieran hasta las lágrimas.

ChD.

Gödelization

10:30 p.m. Restate my assumptions:

1. You never know neither how alone you really are nor how alone you could become.

2. Voices out of your head are also in your head.
3. Insidious intentions and honest incompetence are usually indistinguishable. 

3. Never say "Enough" to pain, because you're never gonna know all pain can be.

4. Don't try to keep the last words if you hate pompous funerals.

5. Burden of proof always falls on her. Burden of guilt is always over you.

6. Don't give a shit; the total amount of shit in any isolated system can increase over time.

7. Whatever happens, just happens. All explanation is posterior and contrastive. 

8. Life is an assumption itself.

9. No-one's system of assumptions is coherent and complete at the same time.
10. Don't care about me: I'm just a text on a page.

ChD.

Kairós

Un hombre prefigura su destino. Ha sido advertido por otros hombres e informado por la Providencia, pero su inminencia no desemboca en el terror. Se sabe elegido y sólo espera tener la fuerza necesaria cuando llegue el momento: la plenitud de los tiempos. El inefable instante en el que representará el papel de todos los hombres y su sacrificio deliberado los salvará.

Reúne a sus seguidores. Aquellos que persuadió a abandonar sus barcos de pesca para tender sus redes a otros hombres. Aquellos que ha amado y que han sido testigos  de sus maravilas. Quiere que su destino sea también anticipado por ellos, aunque nunca lleguen a comprenderlo. Aunque Nadie pueda igualar la majestad de su valor. Él será el único capaz de soportar el peso de la divinidad y la tentación suprema que, de otro modo, los aniquilaría a todos. El dolor con el que la Providencia corresponde a nuestra debilidad.

Sabe que muchas voces lo traspasarán como clavos e intentarán hacerlo desistir; voces que no podrá menos que amar. Sabe que, si permanece fiel a sí mismo, será el único que haya resurgido victorioso después de enfrentar el abismo. Dirige una mirada compasiva a los suyos. Recuerda todo por cuanto han pasado. Su legado será el vertiginoso camino que una vez decidieron emprender juntos, hace ya muchas lunas y leguas. 

Una suave brisa le acaricia el rostro: entiende que su vida depende, como siempre, de la voluntad divina que lo ha traído a este preciso lugar e instante. Su corazón asiente. Ahora la salvación de los mortales depende de su decisión. Verdadero dios, verdadero hombre. Ávidos amanuenses relatarán su destino, tan imaginario como el de todos los hombres, pero escogido de entre ellos para ser dispersado por las lenguas, los vientos y los siglos. Para servir de consuelo en la hora final.

Ya asido al madero por las manos de aquellos a quienes amó, en medio de las tinieblas da testimonio de su gloria.

Y a ellas encomienda su espíritu.

ChD.