Giselle Lucía Navarro (Havana, Cuba)
Poet, storyteller and fashion designer. Graduated from the Higher Institute of Design, at the University of Havana and the Literary Training Center Onelio Jorge Cardoso. She directs the Literary Group Silvestre de Balboa. She is teacher of Literature at the Ethnography Academy of the Canarian Association of Cuba.
She is a member of the AHS and the Poets of the World Movement.
Her work has obtained several awards, among which are:
– National Social Sciences Award José Viera y Clavijo (2010)
– 2nd Prize of the VIII Floral Games (2010).
– Benito Pérez Galdós National Essay Award (2011).
– Centennial Tale of the Golden Age Award, in children’s literature (2011.
-XIII Award of the Tenth of the Tertulia Canaria (2011).
-XIV Award of the Tenth of the Tertulia Canaria (2012).
-Second Voices Whispering Poetry Prize (2012).
-2nd Farraluque Award for Erotic Poetry (2012).
-Mention in the Prize Regino Pedroso de Poesía (2012)
-Mention in the Glosas Award Jesús Orta Ruiz (2012).
-She was a finalist in the international poetry competitions Ángel Gavinet of Helsinki, Finland (2012) and Poemas al Mar Award, in Puerto Rico (2012).
-She received the Grand Prize of Poetry Fantastic Oscar Hurtado (2013)
-National Poetry Award Benito Pérez Galdós (2014)
-KaraDura Poetry Award (2015).
– Décima Indio Naborí Award (2016).
-Third Tenth Wing Award (2017).
-Yasmina Calcines Award of erotic poetry (2017).
-Mention of the Pinos Nuevos Prize for Children’s Literature (2018).
-Mention in the Regino Pedroso de Poetry Prize (2012).
-Mention at the Carmen Rubio Contest of children’s poetry (2018).
– Guillermo Cabrera Álvarez Award for an author under 35 years of age.
-Prize of Poetry Golden Age 2018, Editorial Gente Nueva.
-Pinos Nuevos Award in children’s literature, 2019.
-David Poetry Award 2019.
Some of her texts have been published in anthologies and magazines from Cuba, Spain, Chile, Peru, the United States, Mexico, Finland, Belgium, India, Argentina, Venezuela and Puerto Rico.
I´ve understood that the freedom doesn´t exist
and there is not road without stumble,
trunk without tree,
mind without body,
and the life is not worth anything if the death it doesn´t exist,
that this tiny bullet gives sense to my existence.
I´ve understood that the freedom doesn’t exist
in this body cooked to the air that penetrates in their lungs,
these red globules that group
and the feeling beating in all the possible.
I´ve learned that a man that depends on their body
cannot be a free creature.
I hate the artist
that believes that the art comes from the disgust
and it trepans their brain to extract each sweet word,
each piece of softness,
those words that he calls faulty,
and pulls up the sensibility
in search of the perfect beauty of their work.
I hate the perfect thing
as all the artificial perceptions,
as the man perfectionist
that it subsists thanks to their opportunism,
a man that would hate me if he read these words
and he would call me tawdry
and he said that I am still transparent
and my word doesn’t grow.
A man that the sweetness is not allowed
it is a body that burns turned in the sun.
To be 23 years old and to have tested the death
it doesn’t become a dark being.
To have fallen from the highest places
have been shot for the back
for that to who spread the hand,
without another argument that your innocence,
it doesn’t become a loser.
To decide that starting from now on just you will move the fingers
for that that really moves you
it doesn’t mean that you are rebellious.
To have crossed the path
and not to find reconciliation
among your past, your present and your future
it doesn’t become a strange being.
But to be 23 years old and to bite the complaint,
to say that the life and the world are difficult grounds
and that some impossible things exist
definitively it becomes a coward.