ESTACIÓN FINLANDIA

by Jorge Aulicino Translation: Silvia Camerotto Part I  In the Artificial Lagoon /En la laguna artificial                             To Polo When coming back from fishing among the dark leaves you heard the bells. What you called state, until yesterday is now a stone between the eyes. Standing beside the puddle you now see the slow decanting of the iron. The evening seems light to him; one and another shall come. Some kind of anguish: coins in the pockets are also light. Coming back from the artificial lagoon with its load of eels you can now see things that happen: the sun on the west the flattened grass, flies and pieces of glass on the sand. Some words will never make sense. Do not expect the weather to be compassionate: you are what you see. The dry wind will blow tonight too. You Are Poetry /Poesía eres tú no woman will shiver about your poems you will write with salt with gl...

by Jorge Aulicino Translation: Silvia Camerotto                          Your greatness is that which no hand can reach, no hand can clasp                          GOETHE DIURNAL SWEAT Fantasy proposes white riders on a dry hillside. Reality proposes a tiled wall. The picture proposes a beheaded goose. All is true. The Argonauts die of pneumonia in an intensive care room but there are sea serpents in their dreams and impressionist plums on their night tables. STILL LIFE How was that vase like? Was it bluish like the wings of a tiger? Was it a yellow man on a piano? Was it Margarita Gautier’s traslucent hand? Golden fingers on the mahogany? Some fireworks? The sky at the back of the house? A murky little vase? A dusty jar? Was it not? Where shall we put the previous comparisons? N...