por la precisión

supe que el tiro

vino de dentro


for accuracy

I knew the shot

came from inside


me oculto en la rutina   sonrío    reparto tarjetas de visita

hablo con corrección    invento vg1

el maniquí

para un traje oscuro y elegante              sólo yo

oigo en la rotura separarse el hueso


hiding behind routine     I smile     I deliver visiting cards

I talk smartly     I invent

the mannequin

for a dark and elegant suit         just me

I hear in the crack the bone breaking apart


aprieto el puño   abro la mano   y  espolvoreo luz

abro la mano    cierro el puño     y amaso sombra


I press my fist      open my hand      and sprinkle the light

I open my hand    close my fist        and mash shades


se escribe sin sílabas

el dolor intraducible

otra manera no conoce

la mano de serle fiel


It is written lacking syllables

the untranslatable pain

otherwise unknown

hand to be faithful


donde no entendí                      calme mi sed

where I did not get it          quench my thirst


―¿cómo se llama lo antes de desnudo?―

  • What’s the word for that before naked?-


En la discordia de la luz y el cuerpo ―viejos topos― hemos tropezado con las claridades

Between the disharmony of light and body – old moles – we came across open fields


semillas     caían por un roto

de un accidente y sin posterior memoria

acá en el solar    entre escombros y huesos

calcinados       unas malas yerbas no


las amarillas flores que he recogido

para ti


seeds                   were falling by a crack

of an accident and lacking further memory

here at the field               between bones and weeds

burned                a few weeds cannot


the yellow flowers that I collected

for you


ölderin y Hegel han mamado de la Cierva

pero sólo uno se contuvo de encerrarla en un establo

(lo transgresor no es la panacea aunque la panacea sea

transgresora    decía de madrugada amasando harina)

Hölderlin and Hegel have sucked from the Hind

but just one could refrain from locking her in a barn

(transgression is not panacea even though panacea may be

transgressive                    said at dawn kneading flour)


los carpinteros e ingenieros no acaban el puente    no

encuentran madera que no esté quemada o podrida por la humedad

rota    rotar de días inútiles

y sin puentes no hay poesía


carpenters and engineers do not finish the bridge                they don’t

find unburned wood or rotted by humidity

broken                 the spinning of useless days

and lacking bridges there’s no poetry

Translated by Gabriel T. Chalk

About author

Viktor Gómez Valentinos
Viktor Gómez Valentinos 1 posts

Víktor Gómez (Madrid, 1967), lives in Valencia. Poet, publisher and cultural events coordinator. Latest publications, in October 2016: Otro decir por decir, seguido de Entredecir, libro a cuatro manos con la artista plástica Nathalie Bellón, que inaugura la Colección PoeNoemas (Tigres de papel). In 2013 his poetry collection Pobreza was shortlisted for the prestigious Premio de la Crítica en la Comunidad de Madrid.

You might also like

Every day is Sunday: A Reading of The Sense of An Ending

“Every day is Sunday”…… as Tony wanted it to be. Once you open the book and start reading the novel, you will find the first line written, “I remember in

Diaspora, Critical Theories, and Death of Language: Ahmed Shams’ analysis

Avik Gangopadhyay has both critical and creative writings to his credit published in esteemed journals and leading newspapers. A post-Graduate in English Language and Literature from Jadavpur University, Kolkata. He

Anathpindat & other Poems

Anathpindat* Rotten sea shell gashes your opium dream Before the morning prayer dance floor dishevels. While taking coffee in this bordello city Sleep evaporates from checkered table cloth. With cloud

The night train through Simultala: Vineet Iqbal Singh

I would start scavenging the house looking for the ancient, weather-bitten, faithful rucksack – signaling the end of my summer vacations. My itinerary would be in public domain – a

Jaywalking at Kolkata: Subho Maitra

# Dwindling between Tagore and Kerouac I discovered my city, zaniest credo of being took me to the Old Park Street Cemetery. I couldn’t find a single bone that carried

Parabash-A Story of Migration: Chakori Mitra

Parabash, written in 1975, was a story about a forfeited man who came all the way from a remote place of Bengal to the city of joy to accumulate some

Christmas & Other Poems

Birth of a feeling And the dogs groan … to make them satiate and sedate a night was made Intercourses, cold – to be performed crossing the greedy voyeurs of

The Tree: Ritwik Ghatak

Once, a banyan tree had leaned over a tiny river flowing through some distance away from a village. As a tree, there was nothing special about it. The tree was

‘Television Of The Rotten Soul’ Poems of Falguni Ray: review by Aaron Murdoch

“When blue darkness of midnight comes down on, the stars of your own iris, no, I won’t make you naked now.” ‘Television of the Rotten Soul’ by Falguni Ray, translated

O Tempora! & Other Poems: Amit Chakravarty

Inside The Eyes of a Fortune-teller Inside the eyes of a fortune-teller lied a rural road. Then the evening was softly descending on the village. Vincent left painted cornfields on

The Lobster, Yorgos Lanthimos’ latest masterpiece

« I’m sure that there are people who really like what we do and others who don’t[…] I just think it is interesting to start a dialogue », Yorgos Lanthimos, leading figure

‘Majjhim Pantha’ by Roshnara Mishra – A Review by Anirban Bhattacharya

…..and the search continues. A poet, bewildered, observes the very similitude of every tedium of life, whispering “ekta rasta/hothat-i arekta rastar moto’’ (a street, all on a sudden, seems like

Wind-script, Trigger Happy & Other Poems

1. Walk into the eerie; and sense who drills thy tomb with the wind-stone. 2. The propeller turns as a maze. On whose flesh that maroon nightgown murmurs? Oh human-toy!

Sun and Light in Odysseas Elytis’ poetry

Odysseas Elytis was born in 1911 on the island of Crete and was a descendant of a family coming from Lesbos island. When his insular conscience met surrealism, the result

Ostrich & Other Poems: Adrija Chakrabarti

WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN ME Not everything has a meaning I walked to nowhere today My feet touched a lost day’s dew My heart felt the thrill of speed

For the Fragrance of Puran Poli & Other Poems: Ravi Korde

Name : RAVI LAXMIKANT KORDE. Born on 14th Jan. 1979.  Place: Jalgav Mete,  Aurangabad District, (MAHARASHTRA). Completed Masters Degree in English Literature. Poetry Collection in Marathi entitled ‘Dhoosar Zale Naste

Healing Voids & Other Poems: Sayani Banerjee

IRON FRAME The twinkling stars in dark blue sky, Are sweet to hear in beat- But sweeter is the crinkling of The stars at your feet. The sun is bright

Shanti Rides a Green Horse: Atindriyo Chakraborty

Presented here are some tales and some verses by Bhusukupa, mystic, poet, who lived in the eastern parts of the Indian subcontinent around a millennium ago. Lovers of Bangla literature

Nostalgia and Other Poems

grief I stood there, awash with sand dunes I never visit one foot twisted inside of itself: coquette, doll-thing. my father’s words washed over me, this script my antique. I


No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply