open the book, István

Me traje algunos libros de Eslovenia, muchos menos de los deseados.
Adaptaciones a una nueva vida.

7 poets, 4 days , 1 book, Ed. Trinity University Press San Antonio; Dean Young, Ksenia Golubovich, Tomaz Salamun (los eslovenos me perdonarán por no tener las cedillas esas para la Z y la S), Simone Inguanez, Cristopher Merrill, Marvin Bell. E István László Greher, de quien escojo un poema para hoy:

egység -wholeness or unit in Hungarian

Open the book to the page where there is nothing
Written. Read it. I listen. I learn before you.
A voice needs an end, silence never does,
Half-hidden it speaks through the coverage.
That's why I have fallen in love
With your eyes, closed, even if wide open, 
Practicing for death well in advance. Your gaze
Like foam on the water´s face keeps
Lurking on the surface. Las time I had
Your palm in my hand, the lines on it
Were rivers creeping up from estuary
To spring. Everyone lives in reverse. Open
The book. I want to hear you, don't want to cling.
My lines are creeping through to your palm.

István László Greher, 7 poets, 4 days , 1 book, Ed. Trinity

And I add something new, although it is: a remix.

Open this one. I want to see you smelling
any book with that animal instinct.
Now, today, tomorrrow, maybe.

Ah, ok, you have already smelt this book.
So absent-minded, and repetitive.

End is near, shut up the voice.
Alice, Álex, whatever.
A voice needs an end.

Alicia G.
pics: Álex Bohe.

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