I lost my childhood
I lost my childhood
at seven years old I was a man
a man of war and ofdeath
a man of a weapon that whistles
and the bomb that explodes in surprise
And Ilost my infancy because I was
hungry for bread and my spirit was in torment,
Innocent of non-existent peace,
Tenderness of fear in the entrails;
A sponge for the hatred ofmen.
And I lost my childhood because I saw
How the war was destroying friends
And its infantile blood, shaded my light,
It stayed in my memory forever
As a fragrant flower that withers.
COPYRIGHT-JOSE LOPRERA
Translation in english-Susana Roberts
---------------------------------------------------------------
><
Y ME PERDÍ LA INFANCIA
Y me perdí la infancia,
porque con siete años era un hombre;
un hombre de la guerra y de la muerte,
del proyectil que silba
y la bomba que estalla por sorpresa.
Y me perdí la infancia porque fui
hambre de pan y espíritu en tormento,
inocencia de paz inexistente,
ternura de pavor en las entrañas;
esponja para el odio de los hombres.
Y me perdí la infancia porque vi
como la guerra destrozaba amigos
y su sangre infantil, luz hecha sombra,
quedaba en mi memoria para siempre
como olorosa flor que se marchita.
COPYRIGHT-JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA (Spain)
GHA, IFLAC Member
Álora, 23-03-2011
----------------------------------------------------------------------
איבדתי את ילדותי
אבדתי את ילדותי
בן שבע , הייתי איש
איש המלחמה והמוות,
איש הנשק השורק
והפצצות המתנפצות לפתע
ואיבדתי את תום ילדותי,כי רעבתי ללחם
נשמתי התמימה התייסרה
לשלום שאיננו קיים
הייתי ספוג לשנאת האנושית
ובקרבי שכן הפחד.
אבדתי את ילדותי כי
ראיתי איך המלחמה הרסה
חברים ואת דמם התמים
ראיתי איך הצליל אורי על ילדותי.
זה נשאר בזכרוני לנצח
כפרח מבוסם שקמל.
חוזה לופררה
תרגום לעברית – דליה רהב
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Потерянное детство
Мне пришлось покинуть детство,
повзрослев, к семи годам.
Человек войны и бедства.
Смерти свист, сюрприз глазам -
Бомбы взрывы и оружье
Человек-войны в удушье.
Я младенчество покинул.
Голод. И мечты о хлебе.
Дух мучения нахлынул,
Мир исчез в невинном небе,
Чувство страха в каждой клетке.
Ненависть – теперь отметке.
Детство, потеряв навечно,
Всех друзей, теряя рано.
Кровь войны, столь быстротечна,
Не латая мои раны,
Свет мой, тенью затмевала.
Только в памяти навечно -
Запах сломленных цветов.
Перевод: Зауре Хизатолла,
Президент ГСГ-Казахстан
29 марта 2011
http://www.peacefromharmony.org/?cat=en_c&key=466
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Свершение
Дрожал румянец твоей скромности
В благоухающем лоне. Моя нежность
Обнималась с жаром твоей талии
Со всей душой, заключенной в желании.
Из моей руки струились ласки,
Торжествуя в твоем теле. Сладостно
Раскрывался цветок твоей невинности,
Предвкушая любовь в наслаждении.
Страсть губ, соединенных влечением
Во вкус поцелуя, нас завязывала
Узлом кровным, в плод желаемый.
Нам покорилось все. И радость
Жизни тел, сплетенных воедино,
Впитала свет, подаренный Вселенной.
© Copyright José María LOPERA
Translated by; LiMi Kravtsova
><
CONSUMACIÓN
Te temblaba el rubor de la pudicia
en los senos turgentes. Mi ternura
se abrazaba al ardor de tu dulzura
con toda el alma puesta en su codicia.
Era mi mano sangre de caricia
gozándose en tu cuerpo. Con dulzura,
iba abriendo la flor de tu clausura,
oferente de amor y de primicia.
La pasión de los labios, conjugados
en el sabor del beso, nos hacía
nudo de sangre, fruta sin cercados.
Y consumamos todo: La alegría
vital de nuestros cuerpos ayuntados
tomó la luz que de la luz venía.
© Copyright: José María LOPERA
28/03/11
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
HIGH FINANCE
© Copyright Jose Maria Lopera (Spain)
translated by Ernesto Kahan
You already are the sovereign dictator
having usurped everything,
imposing your swindle and excessive robbery
to the creative miracle of this planet,
to the honorable task of the human being...
You are the shade of the hunger that pushes,
a sibilante asphyxia without answer,
miserable usury,
without any soul that will restrain you,
or any power that will change or annihilates you.
Gold sewer you are
vomiting avarice;
dirty tiniebla in light that burns without lamp.
In front of you there is no remedy,
nothing, even complete virtues
even the power of God is not strong enough.
And here we are, pending of your logo,
without knowing a thumb
that will indicate if it is death or truce.
Ave, high finance,
morituri te salutant!
><
ALTA FINANZA
© Copyright José María Lopera
Ya eres la dictadora soberana.
Has usurpado todo,
imponiendo tu estafa y robo desmedido
al milagro creador de este planeta,
al honroso quehacer del ser humano.
Eres la sombra en luz de hambre que empuja,
la sibilante asfixia sin respuesta,
la usura miserable,
sin alma que te frene,
sin poder que te cambie o aniquile.
Eres cloaca de oro
vomitando avaricia;
sucia tiniebla en luz que arde sin lámpara.
Ante ti no hay remedio,
de nada sirven íntegras virtudes
y hasta el poder de Dios se tambalea.
Y aquí estamos, pendientes de tus siglas,
sin saber del pulgar
que indique si es la muerte o una tregua.
¡Ave, Alta Finanza,
morituri te salutant!
JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
(Álora, (Spain) 19-12-2010.)
www.josemarialopera.com
http://www.palimpalem.com/6/
---------------------------------------------------------------------
PEACE
How frightening is the anger of the men who kill,
of the volcano which melts their feelings from within,
till it breaks their souls in its exterminating crater!
What a storm, what thunder, what a flash of violence
seeks death or mutilates people who are innocent!
Where is the light of the smile
which God bestowed on men to love?
Where is the light of dawn
which radiates harmony among men?
Where is PEACE, tell me, where?
Time becomes a scream in the seconds
which it takes for a shell to inflict the terror which you feel,
and, on exploding, in its acrid smoke you breath
the pleasure of feeling alive among the dead.
As a child, I knew the smell of my blood
in the horrific panic of the whistling bomb.
And I felt the tearing of my wounded flesh
and the lacerating fear, which time does not erase,
in the cry of my constant cursing of the war.
And you who speak so much of God,
whom so often you invoke against other men,
whom so much you worship to justify your actions,
into what base souls have you invited him?
Tell me, which is the race, which the country
that you wish to defend or impose
with fangs of fratricidal hate,
when not even the death of a tiny child
is justified by your fanaticism?
If God is the LIGHT of life in HARMONY
and eternal fount of LIBERTY supreme,
where is the PEACE he implanted in your spirit?
What seeds of hate are you planting there
that cut the wounded land with blades of death!
JOSÉ MARÓA LOPERA
(SPAIN)
GHA
January 11, 2011
------------------------------------------------------------
P A Z
¡Qué terrible es la ira de los hombres que matan,
del volcán que, por dentro, les funde sentimientos,
hasta romper el alma en cráter de exterminio!
¡Qué tormenta, qué trueno, qué rayo de violencia
busca muerte o mutilaa seres inocentes!
¿Adónde está la luz de la sonrisa
que Dios puso en el hombre para amarse?
¿Adónde está la luz de amanecer
que la concordia irradia entre los hombres?
¿Adónde está la PAZ, decidme, adónde?
El tiempo se hace grito en los segundos
que un obús tarda hasta el terror que sientes,
y, cuando estalla, en su humo respiras
el placer de sentir vida entre muertos.
Yo supe, cuando niño, el olor de mi sangre
en el pánico horrible de la bomba silbante.
Y derramé el desgarro de mi carne herida
y el lacerante miedo, que el tiempo no me borra,
en el grito que llevo maldiciendo la guerra.
¿Y vosotros que tanto habláis de Dios,
que tanto lo invocáis contra otros hombres,
que tanto lo adoráis en su justicia,
en qué basura de alma lo tenéis?
¿Decidme, qué es la raza, qué es la patria
que queréis defender o que imponéis
con colmillos de odio fratricida
si vuestro fanatismo no merece
ni la gota de muerte que da un niño?
Si Dios es LUZ de vida en la concordia
y eterna fuente en LIBERTAD sublime...
¿Adónde está la PAZ que puso en vuestra espíritu?
¡Con qué semilla de odio la sembráis
que da filos de muerte en tierra herida!
JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
(España)
http://www.palimpalem.com/6/josemarialopera/
www.josemarialopera.com
--------------------------------------------------------------
PAIX
Quelle est terrible la colère des hommes qui tuent,
du volcan qui fait bouillir en eux des sentiments
au point de briser leur âme en cratère dévastateur !
Qu!elle tempête, quel tonnerre, quelle foudre de violence
cherche la mort ou mutile des innocents !
Où est la lumière du sourire
que Dieu mit en l'homme pour s'aimer ?
Où est la lumière du matin
que l'harmonie fait luire entre les hommes ?
Où est la PAIX, dites-moi, où est-elle ?
Le temps n'est qu'un cri dans les secondes
que met l'obus à t'inspirer terreur
et quand il éclate tu respires dans la poussière
le soulagement de te sentir en vie parmi les morts.
J'ai connu, enfant, l'odeur de mon sang
dans la panique horrible de la bombe sifflante.
Et j'ai versé l'horreur de ma chair déchirée
et la peur qui lacère -le temps ne l'efface pas-
dans le cri que je jette pour maudire la guerre.
Et vous qui parlez tant de Dieu,
qui tant l'invoquez contre les autres hommes,
qui tant l'adorez pour sa justice,
dans quel cloaque de l'âme le tenez-vous ?
Dites-moi, quelle est cette race, cette patrie,
que vous voulez défendre ou imposer
avec les crocs de la haine fratricide,
si votre fanatisme ne mérite pas
une seule goutte de la mort d'un enfant ?
Si Dieu est LUMIERE de vie dans l'HARMONIE
et fontaine éternelle de sublime LIBERTÉ
où est la PAIX qu'il a déposée dans votre esprit ?
Avec quelle semence de haine la semez-vous
que poussent des pointes mortelles dans une terre déchirée?
JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
(Espagne)
(Traducción de Nicole Laurent Catrice.)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
SHIVERS
Don’t you be frightenet –I told her.
It is the storm
coming back again today
and with more fury.
And she was shaking with fear
enfolded in the embrace of my arms,
seeking out protrction between my legs,
while she was grittingher teeth,
searchingwith her most stubborn sinews.
The ancientbaobab has welcomed us
into the damp-ridden shelter of its trunk,
hollowed out over millennia.
Rain drops were falling, erakling
in the foliage of the tree
and in the impenetrable grasses
of the unbounded savannah:
just like cooking salt
fallen into a ot fire.
The clouds were all lit up by
Blinding lightmimg flashes
was making the tree shudder
from shood tips to roots.
I was all while caressing
with my white fingers
the dark brown skin
of her beautiful face,
the wonderful origin
of the vital essence.
And I felt myself yremblig
as if in the deepest tegions
of yhe carth
and in the fecund womb of the young woman,
Africa was waking up from its lethargy
with ancestral impetus,
and was sharpening its claw
to go on the offensive.
And I felt shivers down my spine
from the guilt thatI was feelind
as a white man.
And I never did know why
the rainwas shivering in each and eerydrop
and the baobab singhing in its perfume.
JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
www.josemarialopera.com
(Translation of the Spanish: Frank SANDERS
with the help: Patricia Nieto.)
I.S.B.N. 13978-84-611-0316-5
(Of the bilingual book: Africa (Poesía-Poetry)
--------------------------------------------------------------
MY ANGER’S SWORD
( A tribute to the Africans who,
in exchange for a more decent life in Europe,
have the sea bottom as their resting place.)
I am broken with amazement, in this world
with its steely claws and with petroleum for a soul.
Humankind allows to happen a great larceny
againstbeings both defenceless and ignorant
dragged into fratricidal conflicts or into
system-wide corruption without excuse,
for theft and plunder of their liberty and their fatherland.
In a land all bare and barren, barefooted,
a woman carrying a foetus in her uterus
and with some sticks of wood balanced on her head
with which to cook for the famine of her children,
held up at gun point with an assault weapon
by an adolescent, trembles and weeps.
Further towards the south or towards the east,
in savannahs or desert sands,
the towers of oil rigs are robbing and bleeding dry.
O God, if your rule is everlastingly fair and just,
then where is it, where, the sharp sword of my anger?
JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
www.josemarialopera.com
(Translation of the Spanish: Frank SANDERS
with the help: Patricia Nieto.)
I.S.B.N. 13978-84-611-0316-5
(Of the bilingual book: Africa (Poesía-Poetry)
---------------------------------------------------------
ROSSO *
You resemble one hand
and the other from the same body,
light and shade together
as birth twins on a Boundary,
to engender the echo,
a unique rainbow
that smears out colours
in the same heartbeat;
fraternal riverbanks,
that the river Senegal unites with ots Waters.
You are two capricious injustices
ofa man-made boundary,
that divides everything
and covets everithing,
a line as a frontier,
that separates the two sides
of the river Senegal,
even bringing it to the point
of ignoring what dirinks it.
I drink the sadnes
of a tearful old woman, without papers,
who yearns without succes
to go to her daughter in childbirth.
The river also weeps.
JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
www.josemarialopera.com
(Translation of the Spanish: Frank SANDERS
with the help: Patricia Nieto.)
I.S.B.N. 13978-84-611-0316-5
(Of the bilingual book: Africa (Poesía-Poetry)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
SONNETTO BE HEARD BY VAN GOGH’S MISSING EAR.
Upon my open window, the earthly chill of dusk I see.
Inside my home, crimson poppies creep,
At the sill, startled waves slowly leap.
The scented sea spills its flooding dark before me.
Fish flow freely about my forehead
Shaking their winged-tails in delight.
My body, as a jetty, strives to hold their flight
But becomes a vast sea that swells instead.
My reason fills with sharks whose harsh offense
Devour my powers, my free will
Leaving but an echo of my common sense.
With tremulous cadence I falter, I give in.
I slowly loose my patience to madness, letting
Its eternal note of sadness forever in.
JOSÉ MARÍA LOPERA
www.josemarialopera.com
(Translation of the Spanish::Silvia Rolle-Rissetto.)
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