NYU Black Renaissance Noire Fall 2015 Volume 15.2 - Page 66

By PORFIRIO SALAZAR TRANSLATED BY DEMETRIO FÁBREGA DUST EPITAPH ELEGY OF OBLIVION Here, being among pieces of extermination, dimensions of words bitten by silence, ripped by anxiousness, forgiven by an always, I decipher what I did and was. Like eyes of snow looking for me, like a radiant specter watching us, I look for myself in all the hidden deaths and I get lost in the lost yesterday. Here, wings of death, I spit this murmur that will drown in a sea of other murmurs. Here I burn among the screams in the world I invented. 64 Because I am dust, wandering and old love, because I was a warrior that lost his tracks, I shiver here among wrinkled dreams, living without wanting, silencing this anguish in the bars of skin which will live to tell that I have died and am reborn. Like a spasmodic trembling hand, like an arm of dew in the morning, I touch myself as I my hand could be the anxiety, as if those hands were no longer mine. I kiss the roses and the myrtle in my garden, and once again I find my very own life. Like a gust of wind I breath myself. Like a timetable that hurts us I spread myself among anguish I return like oblivion in the lost yesterday.