Jesús Girón Araque (Spain)

Jesús Girón Araque (Spain)
Jesús Girón Araque, (Streets, Valencia, 1956).
He is a teacher. He has a degree in Educational Sciences and a degree in Geography and History. He has worked as a primary school teacher, and he has taught Catalan in high schools. He is currently retired.
He is the author of several books of poems: Book of Contemplation (Ed. Germania, 2014), Inventory of Fragilities (XVIII Jaume Bru i Vidal de Sagunt Poetry Prize, Ed. Onada, 2016), The Bamboo Forest (XIX Betúlia Prize for Poetry – Carme Guash de Badalona Memorial, Vienna Editorial, 2019), Hotel (XVII Mislata Short Literature Award, Poetry in Valencian category, Mislata City Council, 2019), The Sound of the Jade Flute (Elche Festival Award 2020, Bromera Ediciones) and I Prèclum (XII Ciudad de Torrent Award, Tabarca Ediciones, 2022). He has also published a play, Ma Chérie (XIII Andreu Solsona de Badalona Short Theater Award, Ed. Pont de Petroli, 2020).
Imhotep, versatile sage,
He directed the construction of the lofty
Saqqara Step Pyramid
for pharaoh Djoser
as a guide to the path to eternity.
That is why he was deified.
How I would have liked
to be the architect of our eternity,
God of our winds
and inhabit the dreams of all the stones,
be support and temple
of our days of touch and gazes!
But how cruel is time.
I know it will knock down stone by stone
our house
and will devastate it and turn it into sand.
As it does with the pyramid of Saqqara.
[Original in Catalan. Inventory of weaknesses, Onada Ediciones, 2016]
The emperor likes
my lotus feet
when I bathe in the water
of the palace lake.
The emperor doesn´t know
that I hide my feet
to hide its distortion.
The emperor likes
my silk slippers
embroidered with gold thread
with drawings of birds and animals.
The emperor doesn´t know that I
like my little feet,
I live in a golden cage.
The emperor likes
my fragile walk
on the golden tile
from the hall of ambassadors.
The emperor doesn´t know
that the peal on the slabs
is cries of pain from my soul.
[Original in Catalan. The Bamboo Forest, Vienna Editions, 2019]
There is no crime in becoming an ideogram
that was never stocked or sprayed with calligraphic ink
and that is separated from dust and coal,
and it receives a ray of sunshine – a butterfly shiver -,
and it begins a pilgrimage from mouth to mouth to dignify the word.
It is not a sin to go against the tide to let people know
the situation of the dream fishermen
to the goldfish of consciousness.
It is not a sin to pierce their boats of fire
and flood them with the mud of confusion and rot their wood.
I’m not guilty of convincing the breeze
to turn it into the storm of peonies
that the emperor doesn´t want to welcome in his dreams.
You accuse me of intriguing with almost invisible beings
that wander among chrysanthemums and reeds
and that traffic with suitcases full of my thirst
that exchange for the essence of water
so I can gather the fragments of my soul.
I have not violated any precept:
the precepts have violated the borders of my dreams.
I have never stopped fulfilling the rites of dawn
because someone has to communicate the arrival of light
to the fragments of brevity so that they meet.
It is not my fault that I am the storm of stillness.
[Original in Catalan. The sound of the jade flute. Joke Editions, 2021]

Translated into English by Virginia Fernández Collado

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