Denis Johnson

Denis Johnson
Denis Johnson 1949-2017

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Toca su fondo y se remueve

Una ola de luz densa, su fuego intacto.
Una corriente, un viento suave
que todo incita, que todo abrasa ye desata,
que todo acendra
a sus líneas íntimas. Un pleamar la cascada
que abisma el sol (su constelado
desprenderse, su gozoso,
sostenido
caer, su ígnea raigambre
de cristales: abriendo surcos, abriendo estelas,
vadeando, hundiéndose). La hondura se abre
en la superficie.
-Todo
el océano y la calma
en que se acuna, todo ese ardiente espesor de arena,
de barbecho, de sal, toca su fondo
y se remueve.


touches its depths and is stirred up

A wave of solid light, its fire intact.
A current, a soft breeze
that arouses everything, that scorches and unravels everything,
that refines everything
back to its pure lines. A high tide waterfall
that the sun throws down (its stars
breaking free, its joyfulness,
sustained
falling, its rootballs
of crystals, formed by fire: opening furrows, opening wakes,
wading across, sinking down). Depth opens
on the surface.
-All
the ocean and the calm
of soothing itself, all that burning thickness of sand,
of plough-turned land, of salt, touches its depths
and is stirred up.

Coral Bracho

Translation by Katherine Pierpoint

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