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The poem by Se Te Quedas en Mi País by the Peruvian poet Enrique Verástegui
Se Te Quedas en Mi País | If You Stay in My Country |
En mi país la poesía ladra suda orina tiene sucias las axilas. La poesía frecuenta los burdeles escribe cantos silba danza mientras se mira ociosamente en la toilette y ha conocido el sabor dulzón del amor en los parquecitos de crepé bajo la luna de los mostradores. Pero en mi país hay quienes hablan con su botella de vino sobre la pared azulada. Y la poesía rueda contigo de la mano por estos mismos lugares que no son lugares para filmar una canción destrozada. Y por la poesía en mi país si no hablaste como esto te obligan a salir en mi país no hay dónde ir pero tienes que ir saliendo como el acné en el cascarón rosado. Y esto te urge más que una palabra perfecta. En mi país la poesía te habla como un labio inquietante al oído te aleja de tu cuna culeca te filma tu paisaje de Herodes y la brisa remece tus sueños bajo la luna –la brisa helada de un ventilador. Porque una lengua hablará por tu lengua. y otra mano guiará a tu mano si te quedas en mi país. | In my country poetry barks it sweats pisses it has dirty armpits. Poetry hangs out in brothels write songs whistle dance while it watches itself idly on the bathroom and it knows the sweet taste of love in the small parks with crepe under the moon of the counters. But in my country there are those who talk with their bottle of wine on top of blue walls And poetry hang around by holding your hand through these same places that are not the places to film a shattered song. And for the poetry in my country if you don't talk like this they force you to leave in my country there is nowhere to go but you have to go out like acne in the pink shell. And that's more important to you than a perfect word. In my country poetry talks to you like a haunting lip near the ear it takes you away from your broody hen nest it films your Herod's landscape and the breeze shakes your dreams under the moon –the cool breeze of a fan. Because a language will speak through your tongue. and another hand will guide your hand if you stay in my country. |
*From the book En los Extramuros del mundo (1971).
*The English version available in this post is a loose translation from the original text.
About The Poet
Enrique Verástegui (1950-2018) is a Peruvian writer, playwright and mathematician. Descendent of Black and Chinese families, he was born in Lima and was part of the Generation of 1970s. Also, he was a member of the "Movimiento Hora Zero", a group that sought to re-establish Peruvian poetry in opposition to what was previously published. At 21 years old, he published his first book. He naturally blended science and art in his writings.
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