1. |
No Será Regresar
05:02
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No será regresar
Ni tocar los colores febriles
Que habitaron mis sienes
No los sueños infantiles
De la rabia más hermosa
No el cardumen de esperanza
Ni los pájaros ansiosos
No será regresar
Una a una tuve grietas
Que se inundaron de lluvia
Grietas grises, muertas, tristes
Deslavaron mis olores
Un goteo interminable cae
Sobre la frente de un ave
A los pájaros insomnes
Ya les ha llegado tiempo
No será regresar
Yo seré en tierras pálidas
desgarre de bugambilias
Un golpe de lágrimas (bam bam)
sobre la anestesia tibia
La obsidiana lisa y negra
entre desiertas cortesías
Yo soy
Yo soy
Yo soy
Yo soy el gracias muy sincero
abandonando el tranvía.
[EN]
it won't be going back
nor touching the feverish colors
that inhabited my temples.
not the childish dreams
of the most beautiful anger
not the shoal of hope
nor the anxious birds.
it won't be going back.
one by one I had cracks
that were flooded in rain.
grey, sad, dead cracks
washed away my scents.
an endless dripping falls
against a fowl’s forehead.
for the sleepless birds
the time has come
it won't be going back.
I will be in pale lands
the gashing of bougainvillea
a slam of tears
in the warm anesthesia
the black and smooth obsidian
among deserted courtesies
I am the very sincere thank you
abandoning the tramcar.
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2. |
Noche
03:57
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La noche con la misma cualidad de fieltro
El aire en suspenso y medieval
Con orillas afiladas
Las estrellas igual de monstruosas
Y comprensivas
Que en el campo donde yo crecí
Sentó el referente mi padre
Cuando manejó su vocho sin faros
Porque la luna estaba plena
Azotaba ella y el silencio entre los árboles
Y el perfume dulce y metálico
Inundaba el aire como un oboe
La noche con la misma cualidad de fieltro
El aire en suspenso y medieval
Con orillas afiladas
(Y un hilito impasible)
Como en el campo donde yo crecí
Sentó el referente mi padre
Cuando manejó su vocho sin faros
Porque la luna estaba plena
Azotaba ella y el silencio entre los árboles
Y el perfume dulce y metálico
Inundaba el aire como un oboe
[EN]
the night with the same quality of felt
the air in suspense and medieval
with sharp edges
the stars just as monstrous
and comprehensive
as in the field where I grew up.
my dad set the reference
when he drove his bug without headlights
because the moon was full
her and the silence flogged
between the trees
and the sweet metallic perfume
flooded the air like an oboe.
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3. |
Cuándo Te Voy A Decir
03:52
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Ya volvió el solsticio de verano,
Desperté otra vez con la fiebre de tu nombre
¿Cuándo te voy a decir?
¿Cuándo te voy a decir?
Te recuerdo tu promesa
Te recuerdo tu promesa:
Que un día yo habría de verte Gritando descontroladamente.
Ya volvió el solsticio de verano,
Desperté otra vez con la fiebre de tu nombre,
Me miré en el espejo con tus ojos,
Preparé el café como un día me dijiste que te gusta.
¿Cuándo te voy a decir?
¿Cuándo te voy a decir?
Te recuerdo tu promesa
Te recuerdo tu promesa:
Que un día yo habría de verte Gritando descontroladamente.
Ya volvió el solsticio de verano,
Yo soñé con tu cara tan linda y tan triste.
(¿Cuándo te voy a decir?)
Ya pasó un equinoccio y un verano,
Soñé tu cara triste y tan linda
Que se alejaba de mí
Como una isla,
Como una piedra arrastrándose lento
a lo largo de mi piel,
Como un arco sobre cuerda de violín.
Te recuerdo tu promesa
(¿Cuándo te voy a decir?)
Te recuerdo tu promesa
(¿Cuándo te voy a decir?)
[EN]
the summer solstice has returned
I woke up again
with the fever of your name,
looked into the mirror with your eyes,
prepared coffee
as you once said you like it.
when will I tell you?
let me remind you of your promise:
that one day I would watch you
screaming uncontrollably.
the summer solstice has returned
I dreamt of your face,
so sad and pretty.
a summer and an equinox have passed,
I dreamt of your sad and pretty face,
it drifted away from me
like an island
like a pebble being dragged slowly
over my skin,
like the bow over a violin string.
let me remind you of your promise:
that one day I would watch you
screaming uncontrollably.
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4. |
Principio
06:14
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Cuántas veces he de cambiar
Para encontrar la paz
¿Cuántas?
Cuántas historias de vidas que no tuve
Habrán de perseguirme siempre
¿Cuántas?
Al principio fueron los siglos extraviados
Los recuerdos de una tierra desconocida.
Unas ganas dolorosas
De recostarse sobre las nubes de agua
Y envolver los rascacielos con enredaderas.
Después crecieron las promesas
De lo que habría de ser cuando la vida estuviera en su punto
Felizmente proyectadas dentro de este mundo
Y cuajadas de juramentos y principios.
Luego un pasillo de puertas infinitas
La soledad de decidir cuáles atravesar
Un ramo de historias machacadas.
Pasamos la infancia juntando promesas,
Vivimos el resto contando los triunfos.
[EN]
how many times must I change
to find peace
how many?
how many stories of lives I didn’t live are bound to chase me forever
how many?
in the beginning
were the lost centuries
the memories
of an unknown land.
a painful craving
to lie down on the clouds of water
and wrap the skyscrapers with vines.
later
promises grew
of what was to be when life
was at its peak
happily projected into this world
and studded with
oaths and principles.
then
a corridor of infinite doors
the loneliness of deciding
which ones to go through
a bouquet of crushed stories.
we spend our childhood
gathering promises,
we live the rest counting the triumphs.
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5. |
Tão Na Minha Cara
05:05
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Por que é
Que eu teria de passar
Por isso de ouvir você dizer “paixão”
Como parte de uma conversa qualquer
E tão na minha cara?
Por que é
Que eu teria de passar
Por isso de ouvir você dizer “paixão”
Tão na minha cara
E como parte de uma conversa qualquer?
Qué ganas de
Qué ganas de romper
Las pieles de
Las pieles de
las ciruelas entre los dientes.
Que você não seja quadrado
e que o mundo não julgue,
Que você não tenha medo
e que a vida nos una
Que você não seja quadrado
e que o mundo não julgue,
Que você não tenha medo
e que a vida nos una.
Que eu não tenha que despedir-me tão civilizadamente
Quando você diz boa noite e vai pra casa
Já não quero mais ter que ouvir
o seu “adeus, boa noite” (tão civilizadamente)
Não assim,
Quando é que vai ver
que eu sou a sua casa?
(Tão na minha cara)
[EN]
why
should I go through this
hearing you say
“passion”
as part of a conversation like any other and so much in my face?
how I want to
how I want to break
the skins of
the skins of plums between my teeth.
that you won’t be square
and that the world won’t judge,
that you won’t be afraid
and that life unites us.
that I don’t have to farewell you
so civilly
when you say “good night”
and go home.
I don’t want to have to hear
your “bye, goodnight”
(so civilly) not like that,
when are you going to see
that I am your home?
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Fuensanta Amsterdam, Netherlands
fuensanta méndez – nacida y crecida en Veracruz [México]
singer, composer, double bassist, improviser, multidisciplinary artist.
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