[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Poems by Simon Guzman Zavala – Issue.XXVII : April 2017 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]words with experience…[/ultimate_heading]

About the Poet:

Simon Zavala GuzmanSimon Guzman Zavala, Guayaquil, Ecuador. Poet, lawyer and university professor. He has given recitals in the cities of Spain, Cuba, Mexico, Puerto Rico, Colombia, Peru, Chile, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Bolivia, Uruguay, Argentina and Brazil and in almost all major cities in Ecuador. Has won national awards, among others: First National Poets Prize novel, House of Ecuadorian Culture, 1966; Only prize in the National Poetry Contest University, teachers 1982; and international, such as the Latin American Poetry Prize Foundation GIVRE Buenos Aires, Argentina 1982; International Award ABRACE, Montevideo, Uruguay, 2007 by his book GRAFIAS.  Some publications are: “Dimension of a passerby”, 1973; “Anatomy of a shout” 1974; “Biography Circular” 1976;  “Song of hope” 1979; “Songs of Fire” 1983;” Man Manifesto” 1984; “Lascivious” 1981; “Reconstruction of the truth” 1992; “Physiognomies” 1998; “Memorial” 1996; “Poets of the twentieth century” 2002 “Poetic Anthology” 2003; “The forms diluted” (poems of adolescence) 2003; “Traces / Marks” 2006; “Grafias” 2007. Her poetry has been translated into English, French, Hebrew, Portuguese, Italian, German, Romanian and Arabic.

* below the translated versions, you will find the original poems 

* Gina is the translator of all other Ecuadorian poets in this series



The Mirror

I know I have never been here

nor have I ever arrived;

the face of this dock has regarded

my life with compassion;

on the other side of this tide there are

peaceful beaches to drop anchor

ship after ship I have grown among ports

feeling the absences

a stubborn castaway from so many voyages

I have returned to relive

I have returned to be a silhouette

a shadow

blood and epidermis.


I drink a beer in front of a dock

I drink another,

longing descends upon me for a woman

falling asleep

on my breast

what color is her skin, my insomnia asks

where is her tiny volcano

to sink my fire into

the lives that I passed through leap forth crossing


another memory is born among the wrinkles of life

the city begins to wake up from its lethargy of

early morning

the street is a long, long chain of memories

and ideas

my bones stagger

I see death in the midst of the fog

and I feel rebelling inside me all of

my cadavers

that still have my warm blood


I pick myself up

from this latest fall and see that no one

inhabits this gloomy way

that this port and this dock do not exist

and that I am still dying in another time.





Il Espejo


Sé que nunca he estado aquí

ni que nunca he llegado

el rostro de este muelle ha mirado

mi vida con compasión

detrás de esta marea hay reposadas playas

donde anclar

navío tras navío he crecido entre puertos


las ausencias

náufrago empecinado de tantas travesías

he vuelto a revivir

he vuelto a ser silueta


sangre y epidermis.


Bebo una cerveza frente al muelle.

bebo otras

me caen las nostalgias de una mujer


en mi pecho

de qué color es su piel dice mi insomnio

dónde está su pequeño volcán

para hundirle mi fuego

las vidas que atravesé saltan cruzando

el tiempo

otra memoria nace entre las arrugas de la vida

la ciudad comienza a despertarse de su sopor de


la calle es una larguísima cadena de recuerdos

e ideas

trastabillan mis huesos

miro a la muerte en medio de la niebla

y siento que en mi se rebelan todos

mis cadáveres

que están todavía con su sangre tibia.


Me levanto

de esta nueva caída y veo que nadie

habita esta desconsolada vía

que no existe este puerto ni este muelle

y que yo aún agonizo en otro tiempo.

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