escenas de familia (VI)
a mis hermanos les gustan
los caramelos ácidos:
los colocan en los ojos de mamá
hasta que se ponen rojos y arden:
mamá ríe a carcajadas,
baila hasta la madrugada,
grita con furia a través de la ventana,
nunca usó los ojos para otra cosa,
son hogueras, arbustos encendidos
que las tribus vecinas, sangrientas,
perciben como señales de humo,
declaraciones de guerra, dicen,
pero es mamá que fuma con todo su cuerpo,
algunas veces son solo cigarrillos baratos,
pero otras se fuma sus propios dedos,
se fuma sus dientes, su lengua, sus palabras,
y ríe a carcajadas, y mis hermanos también ríen,
todos reímos, a decir verdad,
porque la vida es relativamente graciosa,
incluso el sufrimiento, el humo en los pulmones,
por eso mamá se tapa la boca y tose,
y se le retuerce el cuerpo, como si tuviera arcadas,
y de sus pulmones sale papá, tiznado,
y dice algo que no llegamos a escuchar;
papá no ríe, está enojado, es pequeño,
tiene las cejas chamuscadas, la nariz roja,
mis hermanos se ponen tensos, lo miran,
esconden cosas debajo de los muebles,
y yo pienso en los arañazos en las patas de la mesa,
en los cristales rotos, en los caballos inmóviles,
en el viento que entra por la ventana:
es el río, pienso, que desemboca en mi habitación,
son las canoas que llegan, las lanzas, las redes,
quiero avisarles que estamos en peligro,
pero de mi boca solo salen burbujas,
me desespero, y también me da gracia,
porque el tiempo es un lugar extraño
para sembrar cualquier yuyo, para fumar,
para pegar los fragmentos del universo,
para cualquier cosa, en realidad,
porque el mundo es demasiado pequeño
para tener un futuro, solo el pasado,
borroso, como debajo del río,
pero papá no ríe, ni siquiera ahora,
está enojado, vocifera, inaudible,
y mis hermanos siguen tensos;
entonces mamá vuelve a hacerlo:
abre grande la boca, los labios pintados,
los dientes amarillos de tanto haber fumado,
y se vuelve a comer a papá, como otras veces,
tose y sonríe, da una larga pitada,
suelta el humo por la ventana,
mira a mis hermanos,
y se recuesta en el sofá
con los ojos bien abiertos
ENG - Translated with Deepl. The translation of poetry is very complex, therefore, in this case, it is not intended to have literary value, but only to serve as an orientation for reading.
family scenes (VI)
my brothers like
sour candy:
they put them in mom's eyes
until they turn red and burn:
mom laughs out loud,
dances until the wee hours of the morning,
screams furiously through the window,
never used her eyes for anything else,
they are bonfires, burning bushes
that the neighboring tribes, bloody,
perceive as smoke signals,
declarations of war, they say,
but it's mom who smokes with her whole body,
sometimes it's just cheap cigarettes,
but sometimes she smokes her own fingers,
she smokes her teeth, her tongue, her words,
and she laughs out loud, and my brothers laugh too,
we all laugh, to tell you the truth,
because life is relatively funny,
even the suffering, the smoke in the lungs,
that's why mom covers her mouth and coughs,
and her body squirms, as if she were retching,
and out of her lungs comes daddy, blackened,
and says something we don't hear;
Dad doesn't laugh, he's angry, he's small,
his eyebrows are singed, his nose is red,
my brothers tense up, they look at him,
they hide things under the furniture,
and I think of the scratches on the table legs,
in the broken glass, in the still horses,
in the wind coming through the window:
it is the river, I think, that flows into my room,
it's the canoes that arrive, the spears, the nets,
I want to warn them that we are in danger,
but only bubbles come out of my mouth,
I despair, and I am also amused,
because time is a strange place
to sow any weed, to smoke,
to glue the fragments of the universe together,
for anything, really,
because the world is too small
to have a future, only the past,
blurry, like under the river,
but daddy doesn't laugh, not even now,
he's angry, he's shouting, inaudible,
and my brothers are still tense;
then mom does it again:
opens her mouth wide, her lips painted,
her teeth yellow from so much smoking,
and she eats dad again, as she has done before,
coughs and smiles, takes a long puff,
releases the smoke through the window,
looks at my brothers,
and leans back on the sofa
with her eyes wide open
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