HiveComb

escenas de familia (I)

fue quizás
hace unos cuatrocientos años,
buenos aires
era apenas
un manojo de pastos secos
y sangre de guanaco,
pero mamá
hacía papel picado
con las hojas de carpeta usadas
y tocaba el timbre,
como si fuera un oso de peluche,
con una carta bajo el brazo:
decía que se llamaba ovidio
y que el mundo acabaría
como acaban todas las cosas:
olvidado en un rincón del universo;
recuerdo que lo atravesaste
con tus manos de viejo loco
un poco descarnadas
de tanto rascarlas
y dijiste algo que no comprendí entonces:
no tengo tiempo para los osos
estaba frío, es cierto,
y era de esperar
que las cosas, de pronto,
dejaran de ofrecer resistencia,
no se trataba de algo parecido a la magia:
solo la realidad, tan tonta como siempre;
así de malo era el pronóstico:
las espinas de los cardos afilándose en el pasillo,
las paredes manchadas de humo,
las huellas que iban y venían sobre el polvo
y papá aullando en la puerta del ascensor,
frente al espejo:
quizás fundando otro pueblo muerto

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 (I)

was perhaps
about four hundred years ago,
buenos aires
was barely
a bunch of dry grasses
and guanaco blood,
but mother
made confetti
with used binder sheets
and rang the doorbell
as if she were a teddy bear,
with a letter under her arm:
he said his name was Ovid
and that the world would end
as all things end:
forgotten in a corner of the universe;
I remember that you ran through it
with your crazy old man's hands
a little fleshy
from so much scratching
and you said something I didn't understand then:
I don't have time for bears
it was cold, it's true,
and it was to be expected
that things, all of a sudden,
would stop offering resistance,
there was no such thing as magic:
just reality, silly as ever;
that's how bad the forecast was:
the thorns of the thistles sharpening in the hallway,
the smoke-stained walls,
the footprints coming and going on the dust,
and dad howling at the elevator door,
in front of the mirror:
maybe founding another dead town

La imagen fue creada con el modelo de inteligencia artificial Stable Diffusion.
The image was created with the Stable Diffusion artificial intelligence model.