(Unpublished texts from the Poemas de sur)
The flowers will throb in my silence
The eyes will hear the flames of the river
We’ll whisper at night
And nothing will be necessary
This accumulation of absences today fills our chest
And there are no more traces on the dry Sunday afternoon
Although the smoke witnesses some ordeals
The eyes release their huge blocks
But none of this will be necessary
Nothing will be noticed at the bottom of the lakes
Not even in the thickening of the clouds.
We Return to Earth
The sound of the night falls towards the earth
The pastures surround us with their white moans
Again we walk the bare earth
And we keep the secret
A word wrapped in unreality
My lost sunflowers are from autumn
When they wither in the shadow of the cliffs.
(Unpublished poems taken from the book Escritos para Beatriz)
The water rises to the hives
The brightness of the air stops my desertion
And the precipice of the birds is deep
But the route digs a new image
Where did we forget the road?
What drill did you lose my name in?
The moon is your own emaciated conscience
Climb towards the light the wormy face
They fill it with sounds in the jungle of the world
An image is that you in pain
That serpent coiled in the maelstrom of the waves
Who can love you from silence?
The flora of time cradles sad animals
And disintegrates in the ropes of the river
That temple opens their bodies towards the solitudes
And send us four different kingdoms
Your flight is a mirror in the mask of the world
Eyes conceive other authentic materials
We like to dye ourselves from nothing
Succumb to the harassment of existence
After the light has departed we only have
And the objects thrown on the floor
But your being unexpectedly illuminates this corner
and flee to cold countries
where the last sailors go
That silence is part of our ancient voice
And bring down the places
Draw an island in the middle of everything
The moon rests in my female arms
And unwind four seasons
A sign disconnects my primitive bursts
And he starts to sing
The wave once again throws its homicides
The certainty of that shadow strangles us
That figure stopped at dawn.
(Poems taken from the unpublished book Ciénaga)
Unexpectedly I open my eyes towards you
I like to hear whispers from the outside line
Your eyes open other doors
And they stay sheltered from the shade.
Since that time I remember you
You slowly invade my landscapes
Cold voices bring the threads of that web closer
They surround the absent body.
I will open my eyes once more
When the stars dwell in our bodies
And a drop slipped through the skin
Suspend all reefs high.
Violet petals fall successively on us
The wind is gone, but the shadow remains
Water slides streams into the night
And the last fire extinguishes my stars.
written by © Claudia Vila Molina
Writer born in Viña del Mar, Chile. Professor of language and communication at PUCV, poet and literary critic. In 2012, she published her first book, The Invisible Eyes of the Wind. She has published in renowned Chilean and foreign digital media: Babelia (Spain), Letras de Chile (Chile), Triplov and Athena de Portugal, among others. During the year 2017 she participates in the Xaleshem group with poetic texts for the surrealist anthologies: “Composing the illusion” in honor of Ludwig Zeller and “Full Moon”, in honor of Susana Wald. In 2018, she integrates the feminist anthology IXQUIC released both in Europe and in Latin America. In 2020 she participates reviewing the conversation book “Shuffle poetry, Surrealism in Latin America” by Alfonso Peña (Costa Rica), also writes a poetic prose text for the book “Arcano 16, La torre“, by the same author. Likewise, she participates in the book “120 notes of Eros. Written portraits of surrealist women” by Floriano Martins (Brazilian surrealist poet, writer, visual artist and cultural manager). In this year (2021) she publishes her second poetry book Poética de la erotica, amores y desamores by Marciano editores, Santiago.
Feature photo art by Enrique De Santiago