It's to go deep into the endless universe of words and their aesthetic corners, where deliberate appearances are forged or sudden images emerge constructing texts, or allowing the author to expose metaphors, allegories, imaginary places myths and realities.
Poet Sergio Badilla Castillo,
ResponderEliminarI wrote this poem two days ago and this question inspired the end:
Literature
I put the book down
the ink started to run
it was raining
had been all day
my first eighteen years
were spent learning
drawing lines
continuing circles
writing letters in peculiar
orders, between preceding
words and outcomes
tomorrow
three steps from
the deeds of yesterday
This was grammar
and tone was rain
or shine, eighteen years
I spent watching
the whether's,
if, thens and pretends
fluency came with bruises
rhetoric with battles
I honored sweet
nothings, profanities
alike, persevered
through long stretches
of analysis, watched
eagerly out the window
of the trans-cendental
express of description,
befriended pleasurable,
valiant, proper nouns,
all so that one day I may read
in alternating steps
with living
I am twenty and
have been reading non-stop
for two years
reading who I am
from the life I learned
the language I enacted
I spent eighteen years
in a classroom
repeating circles
crossing the lines
reading between them
certain I could
be found
in the space
where nothing else was
unspoken, untamed
a vibration deeper than voice
a sensation purer than style
a being outside body
I have been reading
but now I am writing
my fingers shake
I want to continue
but I also love to read
so will you
teach me
how to say hello
in your language?
I have been gesturing
that I am a quick learner
but that is complex
to convey in charades
now that I am disarmed
of my tongue
During those eighteen years
I was learning how to read
you spoke gibberish
during those two years
I was reading,
I spoke gibberish too
gibberish gesticulation
joy
Jericho
Japanese
I am learning
Hungarian, szív
a szívem, heart
my heart
and teaching you
Chinese, xin
wode xin, heart
my heart
And if you feel it beating,
literature that is
I will propose to you
over a rounded bridge
from one era to another
leaves fall in autumn
finding water