(Virgilio, Bucolicae, I, 79)


"Hic tamen hanc mecum poteras requiescere noctem"

Yo hubiera sido feliz escribiendo poesía, poesía bonita, poesía a la que no exiges congruencia, la que sólo te atraviesa y te configura. Poesía sensual, críptica, cáustica; cuyos versos, agudos, excedieran el cuerpo y trascendieran la mente: que dejaran a los sujetos fuera de sí.

Debí considerar escribir poesía, el espacio de todo cuanto ha sido relegado discretamente a lo innombrable, donde la comprensión nunca se consuma y permanece oscilante. Sería brillante motivar las aspiraciones prolongadas que conducen a otros tiempos; maravillando rancios y elegantes corazones. Poesía que no pierde, nunca, su delicado encanto.

Eso es imposible.

jueves, 1 de abril de 2010

2 Comments:

Unknown said...

La poesía,mi amada Karen,debe ser un poco,maltratada,un poco "mala",no es perfecta,mas que algunos versos de Sabina(bromita...xD)

tu auqneu no la escribas,muchas veces la dices mejor que yo

teamo

Anónimo said...

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eliot

 
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