escenas de familia (IV)
mamá se paseaba
con su panza nueva
por la avenida:
estaba hecha con un globo,
porque los almohadones
le resultaban muy pesados;
la gente gritaba, recuerdo,
y los aviones de guerra
volaban muy bajo:
dejaban caer cartas navideñas
sobre el asfalto caliente;
mamá lucía feliz,
empujaba su changuito
lleno de gaseosas y turrones
y esquivaba las cartas sabiamente,
como si avanzara por un campo minado;
su larguísima barba
le daba un aspecto venerable:
parecía ocultar entre sus pelos
el sucio secreto de la vida;
mis hermanos, en cambio,
se aburrían con torpeza:
pisaban las cartas y explotaban
y se convertían en seres horrendos:
algunos con ocho patas,
otros con lengua de serpiente
o garras ensangrentadas,
nos rugían y se lamían entre ellos
y con cada carta que pisaban
volvían a explotar, salvajes,
y se transformaban en seres
incluso más horribles:
los ojos como espinas,
la piel dura y rugosa
como la corteza de los árboles,
el vientre abierto de par en par,
así corrían y saltaban y reptaban
las tripas al viento,
dejando un rastro de babosa;
mamá reía y su risa era un abismo,
fue la única vez que la vi reir:
se le caían los dientes
amarillos por el tabaco,
y su risa era como una tos,
como un ronquido a la madrugada;
cuando llegamos a casa
les cerró la puerta en la cara;
estaba agitada y se agarraba la panza,
creo que va a parir, grité;
papá miraba la tele desde el sillón,
afilaba los dientes de mamá
con una piedra gris y agua,
comía salchichas con la otra mano,
nos están bombardeando, le dije,
me mostró un diente afilado,
amarillo por el tabaco,
mamá va a parir, grité,
me miró perplejo:
hay cosas, dijo, que todavía
no podés entender,
cosas que hay que afilar
todas las mañanas,
sacarlas a que tomen el sol,
envolverlas en un trapo,
aplastarlas, hacerlas añicos;
entonces mamá se metió la mano
debajo del vestido
y sacó un muñeco de papá noel,
feliz navidad, dijo,
y papá se tapó la cara y lloró,
y mis hermanos rugieron tan fuerte
que les sangraban los oídos:
entonces el muñeco nos dio
los obsequios que había traído:
a mamá unos dientes blancos,
a papá un taparrabos nuevo
adornado con dibujos milenarios,
a mi hermano un universo diferente
con enormes baños de lujo,
y huecos en los que caías
una y otra vez, infinitamente,
y a mí me guiño el ojo
y me dijo: no tengas miedo,
es como comenzar de nuevo,
como que te crezcan plumas
y puedas dar saltitos por el pasto
mientras la sombra
de un enorme pájaro
te oscurece la vida
y sus chirridos amenazadores
te abren la grieta por la que escapás
y volvés a escapar, una y otra vez,
hasta que tu propio pico, ya grande,
te impida atravesar el abismo
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 (IV)
mom was walking around
with her new belly
down the avenue:
it was made out of a balloon,
because the cushions
were too heavy for her;
people were screaming, I remember,
and the war planes
flew very low:
they dropped Christmas letters
on the hot asphalt;
mom looked happy,
pushing her shopping cart
full of sodas and nougat
and dodged the letters wisely,
as if advancing through a minefield;
her very long beard
gave her a venerable look:
it seemed to hide among his hairs
the dirty secret of life;
my brothers, on the other hand,
were bored with awkwardness:
they stepped on the cards and exploded
and turned into hideous beings:
some with eight legs,
others with snake tongues
or bloody claws,
they roared at us and licked each other
and with each letter they stepped on
they exploded again, wild,
and transformed into
even more horrible beings:
eyes like thorns,
their skin hard and rough
like the bark of trees,
their bellies wide open,
so they ran and jumped and crawled,
their guts in the wind,
leaving a slug trail;
mother laughed and her laughter was an abyss,
it was the only time I ever saw her laugh:
her teeth were falling out
yellow from tobacco,
and her laugh was like a cough,
like a snore in the wee hours of the morning;
when we got home
she slammed the door in their faces;
she was agitated and clutching her belly,
I think she's going to give birth, I shouted;
dad was watching tv from the couch,
he was sharpening mom's teeth
with a gray stone and water,
eating sausages with the other hand,
they're bombing us, I told him,
he showed me a sharp tooth,
yellow from the tobacco,
mom is going to give birth, I shouted,
he looked at me perplexed:
there are things, he said,
that you still can't understand,
things that must be sharpened
every morning,
take them out to sunbathe,
wrap them in a cloth,
crush them, smash them to pieces;
then mother put her hand
under her dress
and pulled out a santa claus figure,
merry christmas, she said,
and daddy covered his face and cried,
and my brothers roared so loud
that their ears bled:
then the puppet gave us
the presents he had brought:
to mom some white teeth,
to dad a new loincloth
decorated with millenary drawings,
to my brother a different universe
with huge luxury toilets,
and holes into which you fell
over and over again, infinitely,
and he winked at me
and said to me: don't be afraid,
it's like starting all over again,
like growing feathers
and you can hop through the grass
while the shadow
of a huge bird
darkens your life
and its threatening chirps
open the crevice through which you escape
and escape again and again,
until your own large beak
prevents you from crossing the abyss
La imagen fue creada con el modelo de inteligencia artificial Stable Diffusion.
The image was created with the Stable Diffusion artificial intelligence model.
