Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Xavier Villaurrutia (1903-1950)

North Caroline Blues
                                 To Langston Hughes
In North Carolina
the nocturnal air
is made of human skin.
When I caress it
it leaves me, suddenly,
on my fingers,
the sweat of a drop of water.
                                    In North Carolina
The vertical tree trunk swaying,
from the plants of its feet
to the palms of its hands,
man is a tree once again.
                                      In North Carolina
If the black man laughs
he shows granadine gums
and snowy fruits.
But if the black man is mute
his mouth is a red
                                     In North Carolina

How does one say
that a black man grows dark?
                                    In North Carolina
A black man speaks:
 --No one would understand me
 if I were to say there are white shadows
 in broad daylight.
                                   In North Carolina
In different waiting-rooms
coloured passengers
and whites in first class
await the same death.
                                 In North Carolina
Nocturnal hotels:
invisible couples arrive,
alone they climb the stairs,
the corridors flow along,
the doors retreat,
eyes close the windows.
A bodiless hand
writes and erases black
names on the blackboard.
                                In North Carolina

Bodies and lips
I would not dare
to say in the shadow:
This mouth is mine.
                                In North Carolina

No comments: