En ninguna
parte,
ese es el
sitio.
Así, nunca
sabrán,
donde
seguir
bombardeando.
Rolando Gabrielli2025
Images
1
Images, the city persists,
facades struck by the sea
with a fist of burning salt,
columns of a naked body
my hands still touch,
windows of a time
that no longer belongs to me.
2
The city scars
the dream invaded by night.
Someone arranges a new time,
a hymn at sunrise,
the dawn that darkens my hand.
3
Utopia,
who knows if tomorrow,
or then after,
upon an ordinary time
we’ll put down roots.
The city is the sea
that holds and separates it,
lives it even as it dies,
a spacious blue stain.
4
You cross the accursed existence
on a bicycle one harsh dusk,
the old numbers in chalk
from grade school move your eyes,
the world,
in its swamp of light and salt,
is no better than this sunset
where your image has vanished.
5
The city speaks to me grandly
of its future,
from within its misery.
One eye pierces another,
that’s how love is.
