Members Who Read Most Number Of Poems

Live Scores

Click here to see the rest of the list

What do you think this poem is about?

For Example: love, art, fashion, friendship and etc.

The Error, Translation Of Carlos Bousono's Poem: El Error

for Miguel Delibes

(There are just some words and phrases in this translation that I might yet want to modify or substitute with other alternative phrasing. T. Wignesan)

There must be an error in the calculation,
a hole in the sock, a trick in the game:
behind our backs somebody drinks all the alcohol of the said-one
and gets drunk and is unable to stand up;
somebody manages to conceal the harvest’s wheat and the cream
of the meanings.

Search. in the bassement or the dolls’ quarters the reason for the
crucifixion,
and then be obliged to hide the powerful event behind the fact of
taking tea in the dining-room, below the vine arbour or in the
shade of the cherry trees.
Doubtless one will find meaning behind each vile act,
the mathematics of suffering where each crack of the whip is a
number.
Here you have the delightfulness of the encompassing of the
system which provides for exclusion as well,
the co-existence of both the truths, the framework of impossibility.
Right here, in front of us, the superb fitting together of horror and
of music stands presented,
that which engenders the enthusiastic cipher, the melody of the act
of birth and of death.
Faintly visible from an angle/a place the beauty of water spilled
over the floor,
the incessant leak from the eaves trough which makes us laugh.
Look! How all of us dance around the fire,
we put one step after another over the firebrands without
compulsion,
we get close to the flames with joy, we become familiar with the
cinder(s) .
Here we are dancing, enjoying ourselves, surrounding ourselves with ceremony and with rites,
with the rhythm which makes us get together in the moment of
the cremation.
Here we are without fear as if someone perhaps, distractedly perhaps,
or enjoying himself perchance,
had undertaken for us to magically produce
pigeons full of surprise from the sombrero or in the pocket of the
juggler,
from the other side of an incipient horizon gone feeble,
from where perchance we would be warned of it,
dissimulating away those emerging golds from the topmost heights,
an ambiguous error in the calculation,
a hole in the sock,
a huge trick in the game.

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013

Submitted: Thursday, October 24, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 24, 2013


Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Ballad: Just Another Odd Guy by T (no first name) Wignesan )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]