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Palabras Errantes Latin American Literature in Translation

Palabras Errantes
Felipe Martínez
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9

By Felipe Martínez Pinzón. Translated by Cherilyn Elston. For Laura   I say mouth and I see yours make the brief twist of a kiss, timid, circular, complete, like a letter without a grapheme, a tactile language.   We did not give each other in the word more than the pure word with which we […]

The Toucan and the Stars
The Toucan and the Stars

By Felipe Martínez. Translated by Cherilyn Elston.     It is winter and I think about the stars above the Plains like revolving mobiles in the purple night from who-cares-how-many years ago.   That night made me want to scrutinize the sky, and in the thickness of the air sing to it the warm song […]

Like the Mangrove
Like the Mangrove

By Felipe Martínez Pinzón. Translated by Cherilyn Elston.   For Vivian Mourra, Patroness of his majesty, the mangrove swamp     The mangrove is an iris of the jungle, a caiman that dozes, eyelids half-shut, delighting in the lukewarm water. The mangrove is a parrot under the sun’s magnifying glass.   The mangrove is a […]

(very much like the 19th century)
(very much like the 19th century)

Written by Felipe Martínez Pinzón. Translated by Cherilyn Elston.     Open your hands beneath these pages, hold the poem like a wooden vessel, humid and thin. Now drink. Don’t let the water spill, take it expertly to your mouth, feel it thin below your eyes: remember the benediction of having been thirsty.     […]

Guadalupe Salcedo…
Guadalupe Salcedo...

By Felipe Martínez Pinzón. Translated by Cherilyn Elston.   Guadalupe Salcedo escapes death on a sorrel called Oblivion   Not even with death did they catch him, because how? if Guadalupe had dreamt about galloping the sky on a horse plane, looking down, planetary, at the curved Plains, docile, graceful, like a bow pulled by […]

There is nothing as rejuvenating as forgetting
There is nothing as rejuvenating as forgetting

By Felipe Martínez Pinzón. Translated by Cherilyn Elston. ‘There is nothing as rejuvenating as forgetting’ Walter Benjamin     It is night with its alcohol cloths for wounds, it is night with its crochet needles hooting, insectile, the music of return. Shelled from the world we arrive home once again. Exhausted, we scratch our heads, […]

The Palace of Justice
The Palace of Justice

By Felipe Martínez Pinzón. Translated by Cherilyn Elston. For Carlos Cortés Castillo (6th November 1985)     My father tells me that at seven at night he returned from work in a Renault 4, with a friend, skirting round the edge of the Andes. In the darkness they heard on the radio, also kidnapped, of […]