Estrellas por la alfombra (Hiperión, 2001)
Antonio Carvajal Young Poetry Award








Poems translated by
Lawrence Schimel

Don't let the light
of my body mislead you.
I’m burning ships.


This morning I knew
my strange surrender to your words,
my irrevocable desire to be a castaway
of syllables,
a philologist hanged by objects,
direct or indirect,
but yours.

This morning I knew
that I dress myself in your verbs,
I breakfast on your name
and I remain lost, like a fool,
if I find some "no"
en route to the afternoon,
en route to night.

This morning I knew
that very often
I become a shadowy
clinging to the ankle of your sentences,
that very often
I've wanted to be hung on your fridge
as an "important note".

This morning I understood, bewildered.
This morning I knew, at last I saw
that I blur into wind
when you shout my name
and that a whisper is enough,
the slightest whisper,
to fall asleep inside you.


Don't go out on this faltering night.
No. Don't go out on me.
I know that the wind outside
is crackling branches.
I know that my name no longer
arises with words
in this cold calm
in which the smoke,
even the smoke,
is in a hurry.
Until my heart leaves me alone,
don't go out, my love,
from between my fingers.
Wait until I'm asleep.