Mario Bojórquez (Los Mochis, Sinaloa 1968) is a Mexican poet, essayist and translator. Since 1991 to date he has published 9 collections of poetry. His work has been widely awarded, including The National Poetry Prize Clemencia Isaura (1995.) The National Poetry Prize Aguascalientes (2007) the most wanted poetry award in México. The Alhambra Award for American Poetry (2012) Granada, Spain, amongst many other awards.
Mario Licón Cabrera (1949) is a Mexican poet and translator living in Sydney since 1992, he has published four collections of poetry and translated many Australian leading poets into Spanish.
| La piedra más alta Fui contando las piedras del camino una por una todas La piedra más alta era la nube de tu sueño el hueco de tu sueño Yo lo supe y fui contando las veces que el amor nos abrió las puertas del destino. Arte poética Hemos visto el ámbito azul de la tristeza el vestigio insondable de lo que ya se va Hemos visto también cómo el descuido de la tarde nos trajo la memoria de un árbol habitado por su sombra Tú has visto mi rostro entre las piedras del sepulcro la muerte avanzando Tú ves el espacio irrevocable de la felicidad el tiempo de la sonrisa Yo veo estas palabras dispersas el poema. Ditirambo Acércate conmigo al fuego de las tribulaciones que el abismo abierto entre los cuerpo s sea el espacio de una danza la caída o el vuelo Acércate conmigo al borde del peligro insospechado Que tus manos inventen otra vez mi piel y mis sentidos. | The highest stone I went along the road counting its stones one by one all of them The highest stone was the cloud of your dream the hollow of your dream I knew it and I went on counting the times that love unlocked destiny’s gates for us. Ars poetica We have seen the blue sphere of sadness the inscrutable vestige of what is now vanishing We have also seen how the carefree afternoon brought us the memory of a tree inhabited by its shadow You have seen my face amongst the grave stones death advancing You see The irrevocable space of happiness the time for smiles I see These scattered words the poem. Dithyramb Come with me closer to the fire of misfortunes so the open abyss between our bodies turns into a dance space the fall or the glide Come with me closer to the edge of unexpected peril So your hands once again invent my skin, my senses. |
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