The Wound
the exile refuses to sit on the sidelines nursing a wound, there are things to be learned Edward Said
In English, a wound is the past of the wind winding itself up, the footprint of a storm and not the lightening, the rubble, in that instant, of past ages. It was so obvious… and I made it present and looked towards the horizon and at my feet and whispered earth, don’t suffer, heal with me inside, I even gave myself to to your lullabies and your moles with alcohol in hand. It was yesterday. It was a warm encounter with the future, a tectonic yell from some depth now visible today. In English, I’m beginning to understand everything… also exile and exiled are the same, these too, they tell me from other windows, have no cure.
Translated by Sean Manning
The Wound
the exile refuses to sit on the sidelines nursing a wound, there are things to be learned Edward Said
En inglés, una herida es el pasado del viento que se ovilla, la huella de una tormenta y no el rayo, los ripios, en este instante, de otras edades. Era tan obvio… y yo le atribuía presente y miraba al horizonte y a mis pies y susurraba tierra, no duelas, cicatrízate conmigo dentro, y hasta me volcaba a sus arrullos y a sus topos con alcohol en las manos. Era ayer. Era un tropiezo cálido con el futuro, un llanto tectónico en alguna profundidad que hoy es visible. En inglés, empiezo a entenderlo todo… también exilio y exiliado son lo mismo, también me cuentan, desde otras ventanas, que no se curan.