Issue 43 — 

Sergio Téllez-Pon


Sergio Téllez-Pon



Featured on ArLiJo


Días de 1998

para AG


La calle era larga y estrecha,
pocos autos podían circular por ella,
pocos, también, podíamos caminar.
Pero tú y yo pasamos
por el mismo lugar a la misma hora.
Alrededor, todo el estruendo citadino
nuestras miradas se cruzaron
y uno condujo al otro
a un pequeño escondrijo
donde se perdieron nuestras mentes,
con ellas divagamos largo rato.
Era el final del otoño, los días ya eran fríos
y nuestros cuerpos buscaban el calor humano.

Poco se podía ver allí dentro,
sin embargo, pronto, algo,
     tus ojos claros,
     tu piel resplandeciente,
     la lubricidad de tus labios,
     o todo tú,
iluminó esa y las siguientes noches
que permanecimos juntos.
Fueron pocos momentos, es cierto
sin embargo, supimos atesorar
nuestra compañía para conservarla
y así no tener que luchar en vano contra el Tiempo.

También es cierto que luego desapareciste:
no hubo otra cita, no volviste a llamar,
ni siquiera una justificación o disculpa.
Me quedé con mi esperanza latiendo fuerte.

Pero esa noche y esa calle
ya pertenecen solo a nosotros.


By Sergio Téllez-Pon from the book of poetry No recuerdo el amor sino el deseo (October, 2008) and used by permission of the publisher, Quimera ediciones (Mexico City).



Days of 1998

for AG

The street was narrow,
few cars could drive there
and few of us could walk through.
But you and I arrived
at the same place at the same time.
Around us all the noises of the city.
Our eyes made contact
and one lead the other
to a small refuge
where our senses wandered
and we were lost there for a long time.
It was the end of autumn, the days already cold,
and our bodies looking for human warmth.

You couldn’t see much inside.
Still, suddenly, something:
     your bright eyes,
     your shining skin,
     the slickness of your lips,
     all of you
lit up that night and the following
nights together.
Fleeting moments, to be sure,
but we savored
our company to save it,
not to fight in vane against Time.

It’s true that later you disappeared;
there were no other dates, you never called again,
not even an excuse or apology.
I was left with my heart beating hopefully.

But that night and that street
now belong only to the two of us.

Translation by Don Cellini © 2011.


Polvo Enamorado

Sin pretenderlo,
el más equívoco roce de tu piel
extrañamente energizada
con la mía, me estremece
(los vellos se erizan,
venzo los nervios mordiendo mis labios,
cruzo los dedos de las manos,
contengo el deseo de los ojos…)
hasta caer deshecho en polvo.

Entonces, si no me querías,
llega el viento a levantarme,
     y me respiras.


By Sergio Téllez-Pon from the book of poetry No recuerdo el amor sino el deseo (October, 2008) and used by permission of the publisher, Quimera ediciones (Mexico City).




Beloved Dust

Without trying,
the slightest brush of your skin
strangely energized
against mine, makes me tremble
(the hair on my neck stands up,
I bite my lips to calm my nerves,
cross my fingers,
control the desire of my eyes…)
until I turn to dust.

Then, if you don’t love me,
the wind will lift me up
     and you will breathe me.


Translation by Don Cellini © 2011.



Suponiendo en quien nacen los placeres prohibidos

a Luis Cernuda, a su centenario

The gentleness of heaven is on the sea
—Wordsworth


El marinero rubio
Lleva el color del mar en los ojos
Y la ondulación de las olas en sus cabellos.

Los marineros, que según el poeta
Tienen nombres divinamente sencillos
—Se llaman Dick o John o Marvin o Louis–,
Traen en sus besos el agua del mar.

Acaso en ellos podéis hallar respuesta para el amor
(Un amor que nace entre torres de espanto.)

Acaso porque sobre el mar huyen del sol
Y no les broncea la piel.

Acaso, también, porque
La libertad es un deseo de estar preso
En el deseo del marinero rubio.


By Sergio Téllez-Pon from the book of poetry No recuerdo el amor sino el deseo (October, 2008) and used by permission of the publisher, Quimera ediciones (Mexico City).



Wondering who inherits the forbidden pleasures


to Luis Cernuda, on the 100th anniversary of his birth

The gentleness of heaven in on the sea
—Wordsworth

The blond sailor
wears the color of the sea in his eyes
and the swirl of the waves in his hair.

Sailors, according to the poet,
have divinely simple names
—They’re called Dick or John or Marvin or Louis–
and carry sea water in their kisses.

You can barely find the answer to love in them
(a love born between towers of fear).

Perhaps because they flee across the sea from the sun
so it doesn’t tan their skin.

Perhaps, too, because
freedom is a desire to be prisoner
in the desire of the blond sailor.


Translation by Don Cellini © 2011.



From the book of poetry No recuerdo el amor sino el deseo (October, 2008) and used by permission of the publisher, Quimera ediciones (Mexico City).

Visit:
Quimera


Biography:
Sergio Téllez-Pon is a poet, essayist, literary critic, and editor. These three poems are from his book No recuerdo el amor sino el deseo (2008) from Quimera Publishers. He edited the anthology Poesía Homoerótica (Alforja, 2006) and is co-author of Ensayos sobre Efrén Hernández y Francisco Tario and México se escribe con jota. Historia de la cultura gay mexicana. He lives in Mexico City where he works as a literary editor at Quimera Publishers.


Biography:
Don Cellini is a member of the faculty of the Department of Modern Languages and Cultures at Adrian (Michigan, USA) College. He has published two books of bilingual poetry: Approximations / Aproximaciones (2005); Inkblots (2008); and a book of prose poems Translate into English (2010). His translations include Elías Nandino: Selected Poems in English and Spanish (2010); the e-chapbook Como esta tierra ciega / Like this Blind Dust; and the manuscript Imágenes para una anunciación / Images for an annunciation by Roxana Elvridge-Thomas. He is currently completing a translation of the work of Mexican poet Sergio Téllez-Pon, No recuerdo el amor sino el deseo / Desire I Remember but Love, No.