CLARA LECUONA VARELA

 

Declaration Of Principles

 

I have lived many lives

and in each of them I have been happy.

What does not bail me from being wrong

and still insist.

 

Temptations are beads,

symbology of what I repeatedly was at some point.

In the end I have only kept one flower,

a small flower that shines

when the stars open in the sky.

I said it already:

the tiny becomes transcendent.

 

I have declared my freedom to be free,

I guard my memory in the roots,

in the green and petal light colors.

I look up at the sky and it bubbles,

perhaps I am also a bubble

and I give life to everything that comforts and saves me.

 

In the end nothing will remain

but that flower, on which I will end the road.

To die standing up.

Unique

Invincible

Wonderful

 

Alone!

 

The Storm As A God

 

A storm

she is always inspiring

especially if the lights

they light up the windows

and the trees are moving

like a frantic god.

 

But, what do you know

of the dance of my body

what a fucking feeling

on the other side of the window.

 

Maybe he knows

the rational desire to anoint

my tongue with his mouth

blue snake

and I ask him:

what do you know you know about my lights.

Where everyone is listening

your rumblings

i hear you moaning

and I feel sorry

because only one window

it separates us.

 

Thus, I appease his delirium.

So, I quiet him for a while.

Although I know he will come back

with the rain to provoke me,

to search for my shadows

my shutters.

 

I, who have no conscience

in these hours,

rather, I make myself served.

 

I invite you to please me

in this afternoon

in such absurd ways.

 

Of The Remote Hope

 

To my mother

Clara Varela Padrón.

My best friend.

 

 

What minute will you stop to find out

if we're still alive.

Which apocalyptic trance will be the choice again

between living or burning.

Somehow we have already learned the planet

and his parables.

Perhaps love does not part.

He's not coming back.

Although being is an unpredictable word.

No one will give us the map.

No one the magic little key to walk

in front and behind the time.

At the limit of what is possible, a woman disappears.

Promise a ladder,

a few words.

So that the desire to be

don't get sleepy.

And one day this poem will drop.

 

CLARA LECUONA VARELA

 

CLARA LECUONA VARELA: Cuba, 1971 Poet and narrator. She has 17 published books of poetry and narrative. Included in about thirty anthologies. She is President in Cuba of the International Committee of Poetap with offices in Spain and France. She has been a juror in more than twenty international and national competitions. His work has been translated into several languages. Among his latest awards are, the first award sponsored by the Magazine St. Petersburg. The United States and the Havana poetry festival and the First shared Farraluque prize for erotic poetry. Part of his work was presented at the Book Fair in the Canary Islands. In the women's bookstore, at the University of La Laguna, in Tenerife and at the Casa de Colón, in Gran Canaria.  Also at the international book fair in Italy. His texts have served as a subject of study in workshops and schools and at the University of Fine Arts in Mexico. Honorary member of the Association of Writers of Argentina. Member of the Union of writers and artists of Cuba Uneac.