Diana Ramírez Luna (Mexico)

 
Diana Ramírez Luna (Mexico)
 
Diana Ramírez Luna, graduated from the Bachelor of Communication Sciences from the Faculty of Political and Social Sciences (unam). She has worked as a proofreader and editor at various publishers. Her work has been published in media such as Gaceta Política, Yaconic, Ritmo, Campos de Plumas and Los ojos del Tecolote, where in addition to being a founding partner, she is in charge of the editorial coordination of the Nido de poesía project. Author of the books A hurtadillas (Sediento ediciones, 2012) and Como un bolero (Literalia, 2018); co-author of the books Once navajas. Narrators at the Edge of Thirty (Tierra Adentro, 2016), Sides B (Nitro Press, 2018) and from the series Cuadernos de trabajo, Spanish (Ebica, 2020). She is the founder and director of Libr Objeto Editorial
 
 
Elements
 
I
 
Foreign effluvium,
you stick to me
with the constancy of restless water
that does not stop running.
 
The imminent danger
of fortune and misery
in equal parts.
 
Sea foam,
the road parallel to eden
and to the sanctuary of darkness:
the single rail of desire.
 
Eco and strategy
in the same vessel.
 
Night foam:
don’t let the night win you,
landmark splinter of the day
where the illusion appears
of an us.
 
 
II
 
Yesterday I saw you
To talking about happiness,
about the sound of the wind
between her hair
and I knew how wide
a goodbye can be.
 
Yesterday I did not want to know about the wind
nor about you
nor of her,
who doesn’t know about me.
 
And you don’t know either
even if you think so.
 
You don’t know that with your verses
I knit myself a blanket.
That not even Penelope
unbraided her bundle
as much as I did
to think of you.
 
You don’t know that your voice
is the sonorous roar
that covers my nights,
because I return without respite
to the nights drowned in letters.
 
You don’t know that nor the typhoon
could tear off your gaze of me
tenacious and absurd
of a haughty adolescent.
 
You don’t know that with a
come here love
you were able to convert
the seed in oak
coal into gold
and this mortal into a goddess.
 
You do not know nothing.
You do not know anything about me.
 
 
III
 
I want to burn down the house,
to use the incendiary spark
to start over.
 
I will embrace
that narrow labyrinth
that is no longer you.
 
Every chink burns
with the words on fire
on the fringes of dawn.
 
Our house is burning
with everything that is inside,
But neither you nor I
 
 

 

Translated from Spanish to English by Mercedes Soto

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