Bejuma
Bejuma
Esa tarde en Bejuma no debe haber pasado nada;
de sus olores a pan caliente,
es probable que ya nadie se acuerde.
Los campesinos fueron temprano a sus casas
y nosotros a la nuestra. Las luces del pueblo
no se apagaron antes ni después;
las aguas del río siguieron suavemente
su curso y las siembras de tabaco
recibieron su dosis diaria de agua fresca.
Mi tía rezó completo su rosario
y luego estudió un poco de inglés.
Ese día tal vez haya sido menos húmedo
y caliente. Como de costumbre,
los vientos no inclinaron las copas de los árboles
ni aullaron sobre el tejado. Sin embargo,
esa tarde en Bejuma,
hace un poco más de veinte años,
los limones del patio de la casa
estuvieron más amarillos y jugosos.
Alejandro Oliveros
Espacios en fuga ( poesía reunida 1974-2010)
Colección La Cruz del Sur, Editorial Pre-Textos
Caracas (2012)
Bejuma
That afternoon in Bejuma nothing happened at all;
That afternoon in Bejuma nothing happened at all;
its fragrance of warm bread,
most likely no one remembers.
The peasants went home early
and we went to ours. The lights of the town
did not go out before or since;
the river's waters followed gently
their course and the tobacco fields
received their daily dose of fresh water.
My aunt prayed her complete rosary
and then studied some English.
That day may have been less humid
and hot. As usual,
the winds did not bend the treetops
nor howled over the roof. However,
in Bejuma on that afternoon,
a little more than twenty years ago,
the lemons from the backyard
were much more yellow and juicier.
Alejandro Oliveros
Espacios en fuga (collected poetry 1974-2010)
La Cruz del Sur Collection, Editorial Pre-Textos
Caracas (2012)
most likely no one remembers.
The peasants went home early
and we went to ours. The lights of the town
did not go out before or since;
the river's waters followed gently
their course and the tobacco fields
received their daily dose of fresh water.
My aunt prayed her complete rosary
and then studied some English.
That day may have been less humid
and hot. As usual,
the winds did not bend the treetops
nor howled over the roof. However,
in Bejuma on that afternoon,
a little more than twenty years ago,
the lemons from the backyard
were much more yellow and juicier.
Alejandro Oliveros
Espacios en fuga (collected poetry 1974-2010)
La Cruz del Sur Collection, Editorial Pre-Textos
Caracas (2012)
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