Alina Galliano


Poems from

Entre el párpado y la mejilla.


Translated by the Author.


I

She can only be searched for
between the eyelid
and the cheek,
in that silent space,
within that hollowness
of barren
skin,
for she is
inhabited by
murmuring sounds,
dressed
in memories,
basted
with smoke,
because
she dissolves
before
entering
my eye,
long before
her scent
beseeched me,
if whispering
her love,
she adorns herself
with necklaces
of words
and seeks
anemones
by night,
clutching
her womb
with parables,
searching for
my voice,
enclosing
my face
within her
fingers,
where life
alters the air
and the color,
where the substance
is detained
beneath the form,
where she is but
a transparent taste,
is that other region
where stones are
a timeless fragrance,
in that becalmed place
in which I'll be only
but distance.

II

She gravitates
in tenderness
a mere
reflection
upon
my eyelid,
paper sphinx
bewildering
my embrace,
in that other region
where words
are but hurdles
of shadows
tunneling
my womb,
nourishing
screams,
where life,
at times,
is a weary ache,
a definite
fragmented moan,
a triangular eye,
so that I'll
fall sleep
inhabited
by moans,
my throat
clutched by
vultures.


III

There
in that other region
where
the horizon
stands still
whenever
I search for her,
she whispers
in my ears
beyond the dream,
almost at
my fingertips
like a gust
of wind,
her words,
weary of being
but an echo,
there
within that region
she dissolves,
semipenumbra
contriving herself
within her gesture,
she who is but
a delicate breathing
beneath my eyelids,
so that I'll become
just another witness
against her shoulder-line,
she who is inhabited
by murmuring sounds,
the one who spellbinds
shadows and sparrows,
washing her face
with laughter,
the one
who doesn't respond
to her name,
crystal enchantress
who at times becomes
a lingering movement
toward the night.


IV

She left at dawn
with an echo
of sea creatures,
awakening
sound
in the dust,
I was left
with her scent,
with a cluster
of slender words
climbing
the walls,
imagining
the movement
of her hands,
suspended
by the possibility
of her return,
because she
has dressed herself
in her bird-like
nature,
to fabricate
amebas
to the night;
and this is how
I found her,
standing
right before
the outskirt
of my eye,
her voice
shattering
behind
her gesture,
the cheek
inhabited
by pelicans.


V

She moves slowly
a self-transformed image
learning
horizons,
gradual as a whisper
she lingers
near me,
barren feet,
with her dream
of death,
the one
who sings to me
her bird-like melody
and softens
the aching of my body
with her memories,
she
who barely rests
within my fingers,
the one
who sometimes
as an halcyon
will cradle
my silence,
she who is much more
than a name,
because she
stores serpents
in the water's heart,
the one
who draws shadows
into time,
behind the roads,
she
who is almost
a live embrace,
the one
with the weary voice,
that one
who at times
returns
from my oblivion.


V

She moves slowly
a self-transformed image
learning
horizons,
gradual as a whisper
she lingers
near me,
barren feet,
with her dream
of death,
the one
who sings to me
her bird-like melody
and softens
the aching of my body
with her memories,
she
who barely rests
within my fingers,
the one
who sometimes
as an halcyon
will cradle
my silence,
she who is much more
than a name,
because she
stores serpents
in the water's heart,
the one
who draws shadows
into time,
behind the roads,
she
who is almost
a live embrace,
the one
with the weary voice,
that one
who at times
returns
from my oblivion.


VII

Like a slender hand
you chase me,
giving yourself
into my scent
in that unknown
and delicate
game
of your
eyelid,
it is you the one
that always
returns
to the roots,
so I
may regain
the small
sounds
of your
shoulders
or the triangular
space
of your name,
today I hold
with stones
the fluvial
enamel
where
your body
rebuilds
with atoms
the night
or weaves
with snakes
the spilled
caterpillar
of my fingers,
while
raining
with ants
the vertical
eye
of my throat.



Alina Galliano

(Manzanillo, Oriente, Cuba) Her published works are Entre el párpado y la mejilla (1980); Hasta el presente (Poesía casi completa) (1989); La geometría de lo incandescente (En fija residencia) (1992) and En el vientre del trópico. Cantos Kari-Ocha (1993) and En el vientre del trópico (1994). Received the First Biennial of Barcelona (First Finalist) in 1979, First Mention of Honor in "Federico García Lorca" prize from Queens College, New York and won the Prize "Letras de Oro 1990-1991" for her book La geometría de los incandescente (En fija residencia) .

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