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        CORNER BAR

The bar on the corner wedged
between two very crowded streets,
and the deafening din of traffic
speeds up the hour
that in the bar —it's two, three—
runs so fast no one notices:
pastimes, business, see you later,
news from the race track,  hello...
and life slips smoothly past,
mortal, persistent, short.

autógrafo

Jorge Guillén
Translated by Cola Franzen


subir   poema aleatorio   Clamor (1957-1963)   siguiente / next   anterior / previous
Segunda serie. Clamor. Tiempo de historia
1. Maremágnum. II
español Original version