4 Róger Lindo Translations by Matthew Byrne

By and | 31 October 2021
Passing Through

It’s a night of maps stacked one on the other. 

But the other one, 
the one that dwells in the company of permanent dispute 
releases its vapours into the virulent air. 

Harsh and impatient 
is the night in these parts, 
like a cement aura 
in the damp boundaries 
                           of a wound. 

A chaotic urban grid 
fixates my brow. 
Arida crosses the Sirensʼ 
dark hour 
and rusty, 
           smoke 
groans toward true north. 

The streetlights extinguish their darkness 
in hope of news. 
Some lips tear apart, 
rusted trumpets 
open a hole 
for indecent light. 

Go as you please, deformed angel of the hour, 
to fracture the drums 
of complicity. 

Come here, angel of the deaf rearguard, 
to this brief refuge 
where the cannon 
dreams your old eyelids. 

Come here, arm of the night, 
salty arm of darkness that sings 
to celebrate this living beast. 


De Paso Es una noche de planos superpuestos. Pero el otro, el que mora entre la disputa permanente, libera sus vapores al aire ponzoñoso. Cruda e impaciente la noche en este sector, como un aura de cemento en los húmedos límites de una herida. Un caos de cuadrantes obsesiona mi frente. Arida cruza la hora oscura de las sirenas y el humo, herrumbroso, se queja de norte a norte. Los faroles apagan su tiniebla en espera de noticias. Se rasgan unos labios, trompetas de óxido abren un hueco para la luz indecente. Acude, ángel deforme de la hora a quebrar los tambores de la complicidad. Ven, ángel de la sorda retaguardia a este refugio breve donde el cañón sueña sus párpados mayores. Ven, brazo de la noche, brazo salado de la oscuridad que canta a celebrar a esta bestia viva.
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