Yuray Tolentino Hevia (Cuba)

 
Yuray Tolentino Hevia (Cuba)
 
Yuray Tolentino Hevia (Güira de Melena, Cuba, January 31, 1975). Poet, screenwriter, curator, art critic and producer. She graduated from the Bachelor of Sociocultural Studies and Art Direction. His work has been published in different magazines, newspapers and poetry and narrative anthologies in Cuba, Spain, Colombia, Argentina, Canadá, Alemania, Puerto Rico, Chile, the United States, Italy and Mexico. He has published the books of poetry “Puertas, boleros y cenizas” and “Yo soyolos”, both by Editorial Primigenios, Miami, Florida in 2019 and “Between the helmet and the bad idea” (Chronicles of Plastic Arts), Editorial Argos Iberoamericana, 2021. Finalist of the I Canibaal Hyperbreve Literature Contest, Spain, 2016; selected in the International Anthology for the 10th. Anniversary of the Grito de Mujer Event, Dominican Republic, 2020; Contest “100 Words of Heart”, selected to be part of the anthology, Spain, 2021. International Award “Tulliola – Renato Filippelli”, in Spanish language, 2020, Italy. Mention of Merit in the III Edition of the International Poetry and Photography Award “Diversità come Ricchezza”, Italy, 2021. VIII Edition of the International Award of Excellence “Ciudad del Galateo-Antonio De Ferrariis”, 2021, Italy. First Prize in Poetry of the International Contest of the Foundation Literary International (Cuba – Holland), 2021. Mention of Merit in the II International Poetry Contest “Poets for Peace and Freedom”, 2021, Italy. Contest “Putaendo en 350 Palabras”, selected to be part of the anthology, Chile, 2021. Collaborator of the project “Sembrando Versos” of the Ministry of Culture, Fundación Arte – Cultura, Colombia. Contest “Say what you want to say”, 7th International Contest of Siglema 575, selected to be part of the anthology, Puerto Rico Participated in the Rucksack project, A Global Poetry Patchwork 2020 – 2021, Italy, in the 3rd. and 4th. World, Virtual Meeting of Poets and Writers, Mexico, 2021 and in the II International Virtual Meeting “Art and Literature as therapy”, in the IV International Poetry Festival Patria Grande Latinoamericana y el Caribe, FIPGRA, Toronto, Canada. Ambassador to Cuba of Latin American Poetic Art (A.P.L.) in Cuba since 2021. She has curated more than 40 solo and group exhibitions. As a curator, she has participated in the International Biennial of Havana in 2009, 2015 and 2019. she works at as the International Film and Television School (EICTV) of San Antonio de los Baños a producer.
 
 
***
 
There are days when the fingers of the hand are left over
to count the train whistle.
that whistle
full
Of worlds I’ve never touched
Yet those shadows
they traced the time in my hourglass
and even today they save me from forgetfulness
not to throw the drawers into the fire
who guard the platform
where the trains whistled
at every hour of the day
and in the morning.
 
 
***
 
Hay días que sobran los dedos de la mano
para contar el silbato de los trenes.
Ese silbato
lleno
de mundos que nunca he tocado.
Sin embargo, esas sombras
trazaron el tiempo en mi reloj de arena
y aún hoy me salvan de la desmemoria
de no tirar al fuego los cajones
que guardan el andén
donde silbaban los trenes
a cada hora del día
y de la madrugada.
 
 
***
 
There are no butterflies in the fields
they are quartered
for pain and fatigue
to live without dreams.
 
I smelled the flowers
from its roots
and painted the petals
with my watercolors
with the words
that whistled like trains
 
Death has passed.
Everything has become infertile.
cover the house
of family photos.
 
 
***
 
No hay mariposas en los campos
están acuartelas
por el dolor y la fatiga
de vivir, sin sueños.
 
Yo olía las flores
desde sus raíces
y pintaba los pétalos
con mis acuarelas
con las palabras
que silbaban como trenes
 
Ha pasado la muerte.
Todo ha quedado infértil.
Cubierta la casa
de fotos de familia.
 
 
***
 
I look through the rain
twelve years ago
and the same pain returns
the same questions
the void of answers
that you didn’t say
I do not know where you are
but I miss you
brother
and I’m not used to it
I’m not used to it.
 
Dressed in the hours of my days
I’ll give you a flower
in a corner of the house
for when you pass
how the invisible traveler
of the train
at which dog barks
and I smile at him.
 
 
***
 
Miro a través de la lluvia
doce años atrás
y regresa el mismo dolor
las mismas preguntas
el vacío de las respuestas
que no diste.
No sé dónde estás
pero te extraño
hermano
y no me acostumbro
no me acostumbro.
 
Vestida con las horas de mis días
te pongo una flor
en un rincón de la casa
para cuándo pases
cómo el viajero invisible
del tren
al que perro ladra
y yo le sonrío.
 

Unpublished book: Platforms where butterflies fly (2021)

Translated into English by Leidy  DÍAS HEVIA
 
 

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