Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
Chalbert
SOAPStone
Speaker: An optimistic philosopher/man who thinks highly of the world
Occasion: Visiting a garden and admiring it
Audience: People who can’t get easy access to the garden
Purpose: To show the beauty of life. The garden represents the world, the flowers represents a single human life theref...
Desde Esta Luz
by Coral Bracho
Desde esta luz en que incide, con delicada
flama,
la eternidad. Desde este jardín atento,
desde esta sombra.
Abre su umbral al tiempo,
y en él se imantan
los objetos.
Se ahondan en él,
y él los sostiene y los ofrece así:
claros, rotundos,
generosos. Frescos y llenos de su alegre volumen,
de su esplendor festivo,
de su hondura estelar.
Sólidos y distintos
alían su espacio
y su momento, su huerto exacto
para ser sentidos. Como piedras precisas
en un jardín. Como lapsos trazados
sobre un templo.
Una puerta, una silla,
el mar.
La blancura profunda,
desfasada
del muro. Las líneas breves
que lo centran.
Deja el tamarindo un fulgor
entre la noche espesa.
Suelta el cántaro el ruido
solar del agua.
Y la firme tibieza de sus manos; deja la noche densa,
la noche vasta y desbordada sobre el hondo caudal,
su entrañable
tibieza
Translated Version:
From This Light
by Coral Bracho
That delicate flame -
eternity –
is falling, slanting, on this light. From this garden, so composed;
from this shadow.
Eternity lifts its latch onto time
and, there in it, objects
are magnetised.
They sink themselves in deeper,
and it holds them, then renders them back like this:
very clear, full,
abundant. Breezy, brim-ful of their own sunny selves,
their festival glory,
deep space.
Solid and separate,
they bring places,
time and space together, those neat little gardens,
so that we can feel them fully. Like perfectly-placed stones
in a garden. Like time’s blueprint,
overlaid on a temple.
A doorway, a seat,
the sea.
The very old, deep
whiteness
of a wall. The slim lines,
all pointing into it.
The tamarind tree stands, glowing
through the dark.
The water-jug lets stream
the water’s own sound, of the sun.
And his hands; warm, firm; the night, tangible,
night vast and brimming over, a profound river-flow,
his intimate, deep
warmth.