{"id":1801,"date":"2013-05-21T14:42:32","date_gmt":"2013-05-21T14:42:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/?p=1801"},"modified":"2013-06-24T07:30:33","modified_gmt":"2013-06-24T07:30:33","slug":"round-midnight-por-manuel-iris","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/?p=1801","title":{"rendered":"ROUND MIDNIGHT, de Manuel Iris"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0<\/b>\u00abRound Midnight\u00bb forma parte de una colecci\u00f3n de poemas de Manuel Iris<\/a> sobre jazz,\u00a0Footprints.<\/em>\u00a0Ha sido traducido al portugu\u00e9s y al ingl\u00e9s por los poetas Floriano Martins y Allan Vidigal.\u00a0\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

\"Manuscrito<\/a>

Manuscrito de Round Midnight.<\/p><\/div>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

\n

\u00abAnd I lost in the morning mist
\nof an age at a riverside keep
\nwandering in the mystic rhythm
\nof jungle drums and the concerto\u00bb.<\/i><\/p>\n

G. Okara, Piano and Drums.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

El Arquitecto calla, piensa. Planea<\/i><\/p>\n

juntar las puntas de la media noche <\/i><\/p>\n

para hacer de nuevo el puente <\/i><\/p>\n

entre tu voz y tu verdad primera.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026el inicio es torpe. Borro y escribo:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk at\u00f3 puntas de la media noche <\/i><\/p>\n

para tender la melod\u00eda que funciona <\/i><\/p>\n

como puente de tu voz <\/i><\/p>\n

al grito primigenio.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

Acaso ha mejorado. Sigo escribiendo pero entonces apareces. Entras al cuarto y a pesar de que te veo de frente, prefiero la otra imagen que hay en el espejo, la variaci\u00f3n del vidrio boquiabierto junto a ti.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

\u2026<\/i>me detiene boquiabierto<\/i>: evidente efectismo. Pongo de nuevo esa canci\u00f3n del Arquitecto y dejo que te vayas. Contin\u00fao:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk ha atado los extremos de la media noche<\/i><\/p>\n

para iniciar la variaci\u00f3n de los andamios <\/i><\/p>\n

que se alargan de tu hablar <\/i><\/p>\n

a tu gemir de orgasmo\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 al primitivo <\/i><\/p>\n

tiempo de los otros\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 los pre-humanos <\/i><\/p>\n

que se aman contemplando el fuego<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk arm\u00f3 la media noche circular<\/i><\/p>\n

y entonces la ternura m\u00e1s rudimentaria<\/i><\/p>\n

se apropi\u00f3 de ti\u00a0 te convirti\u00f3 en la imagen<\/i><\/p>\n

del primer amor\u00a0 que es casi el eufemismo <\/i><\/p>\n

de quedar en celo\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 es casi ronda\u00a0 casi <\/i><\/p>\n

d\u00eda siguiente\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

\u2026la canci\u00f3n termina pero alguna variaci\u00f3n es todav\u00eda posible. Callo. Imagino al arquitecto componiendo partituras que sirven nada m\u00e1s para salir o para entrar en ellas. Pongo play:<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

pensaba <\/i><\/p>\n

unir las puntas de la media noche<\/i><\/p>\n

y la ternura m\u00e1s hom\u00ednida posible<\/i><\/p>\n

el m\u00e1s elemental amor\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 te vio las manos <\/i><\/p>\n

y pens\u00f3 en dejarlas en la piedra para siempre<\/i><\/p>\n

en invocarte como a la cacer\u00eda\u00a0 y te volvi\u00f3 rupestre <\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0y te dej\u00f3 en la cueva del amor original <\/i><\/p>\n

del eufemismo de quedar en celo\u00a0\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n

de ser Thelonius Monk haciendo los andamios <\/i><\/p>\n

que se alargan de tu voz a los aullidos\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de tu risa<\/i><\/p>\n

hacia el temblor de orgasmo<\/i><\/p>\n

y vas del piano al tambor y vas tambi\u00e9n<\/i><\/p>\n

en direcci\u00f3n contraria\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Caigo en cuenta<\/i><\/p>\n

de que el puente es una forma de la eternidad<\/i><\/p>\n

que el Arquitecto escribe los reflejos de tu rostro <\/i><\/p>\n

cuando entras por la puerta\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 tu precisa variaci\u00f3n<\/i><\/p>\n

tus puntos\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 tus momentos\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de llegada <\/i><\/p>\n

o de partida.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0ROUND MIDNIGHT <\/b><\/p>\n

(Traducci\u00f3n al portugu\u00e9s de Floriano Martins<\/a>)<\/b><\/p>\n

\n

And I lost in the morning mist
\nof an age at a riverside keep
\nwandering in the mystic rhythm
\nof jungle drums and the concerto.<\/p>\n

Gabriel Okara, Piano and Drums.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

O Arquiteto cala, pensa. Planeja<\/i><\/p>\n

juntar as pontas da meia-noite<\/i><\/p>\n

para fazer novamente a ponte<\/i><\/p>\n

entre tua voz e tua verdade primeira.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026o in\u00edcio \u00e9 torpe. Apago e escrevo:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk atou pontas da meia-noite<\/i><\/p>\n

para estender a melodia que funciona<\/i><\/p>\n

como ponte de tua voz<\/i><\/p>\n

at\u00e9 o grito primig\u00eanio.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Talvez tenha melhorado. Sigo escrevendo por\u00e9m ent\u00e3o apareces. Entras no quarto e embora eu te veja de frente prefiro a outra imagem que h\u00e1 no espelho, a varia\u00e7\u00e3o do vidro boquiaberto a teu lado<\/i>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026me det\u00e9m boquiaberto<\/i>: evidente simula\u00e7\u00e3o. Ponho novamente essa can\u00e7\u00e3o do Arquiteto e deixo que te v\u00e1s. Continuo:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk atou os extremos da meia-noite<\/i><\/p>\n

para iniciar a varia\u00e7\u00e3o dos andaimes<\/i><\/p>\n

que se alongam de tua fala<\/i><\/p>\n

a teu gemido de orgasmo\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 ao primitivo<\/i><\/p>\n

tempo dos outros\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 os pr\u00e9-humanos<\/i><\/p>\n

que se amam contemplando o fogo<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk armou a meia-noite circular<\/i><\/p>\n

e ent\u00e3o a ternura mais rudimentar<\/i><\/p>\n

se apropriou de ti te converteu na imagem<\/i><\/p>\n

do primeiro amor\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 que \u00e9 quase o eufemismo<\/i><\/p>\n

de estar no c\u00e9u\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00e9 quase ronda quase<\/i><\/p>\n

dia seguinte<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026a can\u00e7\u00e3o termina, por\u00e9m alguma varia\u00e7\u00e3o \u00e9 ainda poss\u00edvel. Calo. Imagino o arquiteto compondo partituras que servem t\u00e3o somente para sair ou para entrar nelas. Ponho play<\/i>:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

pensava<\/i><\/p>\n

unir as pontas da meia-noite<\/i><\/p>\n

e a ternura mais homin\u00eddea poss\u00edvel<\/i><\/p>\n

o amor mais elementar\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 viu tuas m\u00e3os<\/i><\/p>\n

e pensou em deix\u00e1-las para sempre na pedra<\/i><\/p>\n

em invocar-te como a ca\u00e7a e te tornou rupestre<\/i><\/p>\n

e te deixou na cova do amor original<\/i><\/p>\n

do eufemismo de estar no cio<\/i><\/p>\n

de ser Thelonius Monk fazendo os andaimes<\/i><\/p>\n

que se alongam de tua voz aos uivos\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de teu riso<\/i><\/p>\n

at\u00e9 o tremor de orgasmo<\/i><\/p>\n

e vais do piano \u00e0 bateria e vais tamb\u00e9m<\/i><\/p>\n

em dire\u00e7\u00e3o contr\u00e1ria <\/i><\/p>\n

Percebo ent\u00e3o<\/i><\/p>\n

que a ponte \u00e9 uma forma da eternidade<\/i><\/p>\n

que o Arquiteto escreve os reflexos de teu rosto<\/i><\/p>\n

quando entras pela porta\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 tua precisa varia\u00e7\u00e3o<\/i><\/p>\n

teus pontos\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 teus momentos\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 de chegada<\/i><\/p>\n

ou de partida.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 ROUND MIDNIGHT <\/b><\/p>\n

(Traducci\u00f3n al ingl\u00e9s de Allan Vidigal)<\/b><\/p>\n

\n

And I lost in the morning mist
\nof an age at a riverside keep
\nwandering in the mystic rhythm
\nof jungle drums and the concerto.<\/p>\n

Gabriel Okara, Piano and Drums.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

The silent Architect is thinking. He plans<\/i><\/p>\n

to bring the edges of midnight together <\/i><\/p>\n

once again bridging the gap <\/i><\/p>\n

between your voice and your first primal truth.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u2026a bad start. I rub it out and write:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk tied the edges of midnight together <\/i><\/p>\n

to stretch a tune across the void, the tune that serves <\/i><\/p>\n

as a bridge from your own voice <\/i><\/p>\n

to the eldest of all screams.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

A little better, maybe. I go on writing but<\/i> that’s when you come around<\/i>. Into the room and even though I look at you face to face, I prefer the other sight that lies within the mirror, the mouth-agape variation of glass beside you.<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

\u2026<\/i>I stop at mouth-agape<\/i>: too obviously for effect. I play the Architect’s song once more and let you leave. I press on:<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk tied the edges of midnight together<\/i><\/p>\n

to give rise to variations on scaffoldings<\/i><\/p>\n

that stretch out from what you say <\/i><\/p>\n

to what you moan in orgasm\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 to the primal<\/i><\/p>\n

days of those long-gone\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 of proto-humans <\/i><\/p>\n

who make love to each other by the fire<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

Thelonius Monk erected midnight in circles<\/i><\/p>\n

as a rudimentary form of caring<\/i><\/p>\n

possessed you owned you\u00a0 made you turn into an image<\/i><\/p>\n

of the first love ever\u00a0 an euphemism perhaps <\/i><\/p>\n

for lingering in heat\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 perhaps for rounds\u00a0 perhaps<\/i><\/p>\n

for tomorrow\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

\u2026the song ends, but there may still be room for variation. I fall silent. I Imagine the architect writing sheet music whose only purpose is to go into or come out of. I press play:<\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

he thought<\/i><\/p>\n

of joining the edges of pitch-black midnight<\/i><\/p>\n

and of the most human-like tenderness feasible<\/i><\/p>\n

the most elementary form of love\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 he saw your hands <\/i><\/p>\n

and he thought of forgetting them inside the rock forever <\/i><\/p>\n

he thought of summoning you like game or prey\u00a0 turned you into cave-wall paintings <\/i><\/p>\n

and left you in the grave of the first love ever felt <\/i><\/p>\n

of the euphemism of staying in heat <\/i><\/p>\n

of being Thelonius Monk builder of\u00a0 scaffoldings <\/i><\/p>\n

all the way down from you voice to your deepest howls\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 from your laughter<\/i><\/p>\n

all the way to trembling in orgasm<\/i><\/p>\n

and you\u00a0 go from piano to drums but likewise you go <\/i><\/p>\n

in the opposite way\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/i><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I realize<\/i><\/p>\n

that the bridge is just eternity in a new guise <\/i><\/p>\n

that the Architect writes down the plain reflections of your face <\/i><\/p>\n

as you make it through the door\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0the sharpest variations of you<\/i><\/p>\n

your points\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 your moments\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 of arrival <\/i><\/p>\n

or departure.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Manuel Iris (M\u00e9xico 1983). Doctor en lenguas romances por la University of Cincinnati (EEUU). Premio Nacional de Poes\u00eda \u00abM\u00e9rida\u00bb (2009). Autor de Versos robados y otros juegos<\/em> (CONACULTA 2004, UADY 2006), Cuaderno de los sue\u00f1os<\/em> (Tierra Adentro 2009), y compilador de En la orilla del silencio. E<\/em>nsayos sobre Al\u00ed Chumacero<\/em> (Tierra Adentro, 2012).<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0\u00abRound Midnight\u00bb forma parte de una colecci\u00f3n de poemas de Manuel Iris sobre jazz,\u00a0Footprints.\u00a0Ha sido traducido al portugu\u00e9s y al ingl\u00e9s por los poetas Floriano Martins y Allan Vidigal.\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 \u00abAnd I lost in the morning mist of an age at a riverside keep wandering in the mystic rhythm of jungle drums and the concerto\u00bb. G. Okara, Piano and Drums.             El Arquitecto calla, piensa. Planea juntar las puntas de la media noche para hacer de nuevo el puente entre tu voz y tu verdad primera.   \u2026el inicio es torpe. Borro y escribo:   Thelonius Monk at\u00f3 puntas de la media noche para tender la melod\u00eda que funciona como puente de tu voz al grito primigenio. \u00a0 Acaso ha mejorado. Sigo escribiendo pero entonces apareces. Entras al cuarto y a pesar de que te veo de frente, prefiero la otra imagen que hay en el espejo, la variaci\u00f3n del vidrio boquiabierto junto a ti. \u00a0 \u2026me detiene boquiabierto: evidente efectismo. Pongo de nuevo esa canci\u00f3n del Arquitecto y dejo que te vayas. Contin\u00fao:   Thelonius Monk ha atado los extremos de la media noche para iniciar la variaci\u00f3n de los […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":1802,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0},"categories":[61,46],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1801"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1801"}],"version-history":[{"count":54,"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1801\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2167,"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1801\/revisions\/2167"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1802"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1801"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1801"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.subverso.es\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1801"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}