By Tedi Lopez

Translated by Cheryl Clark Vermeulen

from Issue 21


 

A time exists there

Another air of gold

Another skin bound to wind

Burn, you say, to live there is to burn

That mountain range in flames
Ascending through a strip of sky

That canvas of clouds on the face
Breaking the afternoon
Into a portrait of instants

Beyond, past the outskirts
Where the blaze thins out
The denseness of forest
See if a province is on fire
Bordering a land
Not in sight
Through the window
Blinding one world’s conflagration

Like the sun
In the shut memory of the eyes


Tedi López Mills, born in Mexico City in 1959, is a poet, essayist, translator, and editor. In 1998, she received the first poetry grant, awarded by the Octavio Paz Foundation. From 1994 to 1999 she was the editor in chief of the literary journal La Gaceta. Her poetry books include Segunda persona, (Efraín Huerta National Literature Prize), Glosas, Horas and Luz por aire y agua, Un jardín, cinco noches (y otros poemas), Contracorriente (José Fuentes Mares National Prize for Literature), Parafrasear and Muerte en la rúa Augusta (Xavier Villaurrutia Award).

Cheryl Clark Vermeulen earned an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop after working for a decade in non-profit organizations. Her poems have appeared or will appear in journals including Caketrain, Third Coast, DIAGRAM, EOAGH, Inertia Magazine, and her translations in eXchanges and the anthology Connecting Lines: New Poetry from Mexico. She is the author of the chapbook Dead-Eye Spring (Cy Gist Press) and a 2010 finalist for the Massachusetts Cultural Council’s Artist Fellowship. She teaches writing at Massachusetts College of Art and Design.

Original text: Tedi López Mills. “Por la ventana,” from Horas. México, D.F.: Trilce Ediciones, 2000.

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