Wednesday, August 13, 2008

My great uncle - Panamanian poet laureate and former diplomat. Friend to Neruda, Picasso and others. Panama's emissary to Le Havre and Jamaica

Juan De La Luna by Demetrio Korsi  (translated by Matthew Aquilone)


Moon's light mixing -  

Comes back - leaves of polished gold before each alley,

            and any old broken glass, scattered on the street,

make like coronation diamonds...


            The harlequin moon,

            the high-wire moon

            on a loose wire,

            laid out on the sill;


One step, it's bound to happen -

end up in a bucket of water.


Ah money, no sense wasting it on rum!

'Cause more drunk am I on the moon than shots,

'cause for us dipsomaniacs the moon's a stiff one


not sipped,

            but sniffed -

little by little

till no more shine can ride the brain...


(And there I was,

majestically drunk,

that night downtown,

of talking out my ass;


boogied from my anguish, the anguish that hid

-in each fruit a worm-

                                    my own heart.)

No comments: