By Marco Herndon Melgarejo
- yo te siento entre aeropuertos
- donde las promesas de volver, nacen y se detienen
- ahora te veo, con tus soleadas distancias
- pausas de la eterna neblina
- mis recuerdos se dispersan
- veo esquinas donde viví años
- otras donde solo deseaba volver
- a las promesas de otra tierra
- siento tu sol incansable
- tus predios de concreto interminables
- eres mi único constante pero
- aún no me conoces
- no quieres conocerme
- te recuerdo a todos esos lugares
- donde casi todos se fueron
- sé que pertenecer sin permanecer
- solo existe en mis mayores fantasías
- tu serás mi constante pero yo no soy el tuyo
- soy como tus aves sobre tus islas amarillas y secas
- buscando refugio de todos los fríos
- intento encontrar los lugares que dejé
- algunos ya cerrados o con otros dueños
- las personas que añoro tienen otros términos y condiciones
- esta vez, no quiero recapitular todo lo perdido
- no puedo recoger mis pasos como desea mi madre
- solo logro estar entre los que llegan y se van
- los que nunca retornarán
- entre tus piedras costeras
- escucho las olas de ají, limón y cebolla
- ya no quiero encontrarme
- ni intentar ser todo lo que quisiera haber sido
- solo puedo estar en este pequeño espacio
- entre salidas y partidas
- entre desamores y amistades
- solo quiero sentirte
- i see you between airports
- where promises to return are born and held still
- now, in your sun-glazed distances
- that pause the eternal fog
- my memories drift with my gaze
- there are corners where i lived years
- others where i dreamt to return
- to the promises of another land
- i feel your insatiable sun
- your interminable concrete buildings
- you’re my only constant but sometimes
- you still don’t know me
- you do not want to know me
- i remind you of those places
- where everyone is and has escaped
- i know: to belong without remaining
- only happens in fantasies
- you may be my only constant but I am never yours
- like the birds on your dry and amber islands
- who seek refuge from all of the colds
- to find the abandoned places
- some are closed, others repossessed
- those that i long for have new terms and conditions
- this time, i don’t want to recapture what i’ve lost
- i cannot retrace my path like my mother wishes
- i can only exist between the arrived and departed
- the ones that never return
- Between your oceanside stones
- i hear the waves of ají, lime and onion
- i no longer find me, or attempt to be
- all i wish i would have been
- in this small space
- of departures and arrivals
- between letting go and holding on
- i only want to feel you
*Notes on translation:
“to survive the borderlands, you must live sin fronteras…be a crossroads” – Gloria Anzaldúa
In the contemporary digital age, translation can seem archaic. Google Translate and other apps instantly translate any written text or speech. English now dominates the culturally and economically privileged West as the unofficial lingua franca. Yet we can all agree some things can’t be translated. Original language hides the true meaning of a text, a verb, a song or even a name. The Argentine critic and writer H.A. Murena thought translating was “to take something beyond itself…into something else.” I am not an officially trained translator, but as a native Spanish-English bilingual speaker, I exist in constant translation. Therefore, I chose to translate a poem I originally wrote in Spanish to English. The outcome are two separate poems, one in Spanish and the other in (translated) English.
Marco Herndon (he/him) grew up between the US and Peru and now calls San Francisco home (when not in Cambridge). In his free time, Marco writes short fiction and poetry. For more of Marco’s work, see his personal website.