About the Poet:
Marialuz Albuja Bayas (Quito, 1972) Her published poetry works include: Las naranjas y el mar (1997), Llevo de la luna un rayo (1999), Paisaje de sal (2004), La pendiente imposible (2008), published and awarded by the Ministry of Culture of Ecuador, Detrás de la brisa (2013), honorable mention by the Cesar Devila Andrade Award committee and Cristales invisibles (personal anthology, Popayan, Colombia, 2013). Her works have been partially translated into English, Portuguese, Italian, French and Basque, and have been published in anthologies within Ecuador, Latin America and Europe. She has also published the poetry books for children Cuando cierro mis ojos and Cuando duerme el sol, and is co-founder of the Pubishing House Rascacielos.
* below the translated versions, you will find the original poems
* Gina is the translator of all other Ecuadorian poets in this series unless otherwise specified
This thing of not sleeping
of breaking down
of getting up at three in the morning
to ruminate I don’t remember what.
This thing of seeing my hands as if they were not mine
because some blue veins, thick and serpentine, now cleave them.
This desire to flee
toward the humid fog of the coastland
and never going back to the desk, to the street, to the closet.
This eagerness to give, in loud voice, advice aimed at no one in particular
at my grandfather when he was a beginner
at the whore that I discovered in a street of Santo Domingo
at the Dappled Hen Bird, who yesterday lost her peace…
Could all this perhaps be Lost Love?
Esto de no dormir
de quebrarme
de alzar la cabeza a las tres de la mañana
para rumiar no me acuerdo qué cosas.
Esto de verme las manos como si no fueran mías
porque unas venas azules, gruesas y serpenteadas ahora las surcan.
Este deseo de huir
tras la niebla húmeda de la costa
y no volver más al escritorio, a la calle, al ropero.
Esto de dar, en voz alta, consejos que van para nadie
para mi abuelo cuando era novato
para la puta que descubrí en una calle de Santo Domingo
para la Pájara Pinta, que ayer extravió su quietud…
¿Acaso todo esto será El Desamor?
—
Fear pierced me with delight
when the black cat came to pronounce all my names
when he stalked me from behind
to uproot me.
How to go back
if the birds already cleared the path
and the fireflies erased their reflections on the landscape?
If doubts were not chasing after me
I would not even try to remember
but the unscrupulous girl I used to be
leaves her footprints on the mud
she spits
she cries
she rolls around
while the other,
the grandparents’ girl
keeps coming back to look for me amidst the shadows.
El miedo me traspasaba con deleite
cuando venía el gato negro a pronunciar todos mis nombres
cuando asechaba tras de mí
para arrancarme.
Cómo volver
si ya los pájaros limpiaron el sendero
y las luciérnagas borraron su reflejo en el paisaje.
Si no ocurriese que la duda me persigue
ya ni siquiera intentaría recordar
pero la niña sin escrúpulos que fui
deja sus huellas en el fango
escupe
llora
se revuelca
mientras aquella
la de los abuelos
viene a buscarme entre las sombras
todavía.
(Translated by Francisco Larios, Nicaragua-EEUU, poet)