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About this poet

Diego Alfaro Palma was born in Limache, Chile, in 1984. He is the author of several poetry collections, including Litoral central (Editorial Libros de Pez Espiral, 2017) and Tordo (Editorial Cuneta, 2014), which received the Santiago Literary Prize in 2015. Alfaro Palma is also the editor of Homenaje a Ezra Pound desde Chile (Editorial Universitaria, 2010). The founder of the publisher Limache250, he lives in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Cortamonte

translated by Lucian Mattison

I am that man that has let his time pass in notary offices,
who, waiting for his number to be called, imagines being an English pilot or
a cadaver lying in the Peruvian Sierras. Abandoned within
these four walls, the secretaries turn out the lights and let me
die in those altitudes, already so far away from he who first drew his number
and, enlisted, saw life turned into paperwork. Moving
inward, I say goodbye to humanity every morning, drying in the
sun like fruit on a roof.

 


Cortamonte

Yo soy el hombre que ha dejado pasar el tiempo en las notarías,
que esperando su turno imagina ser un piloto inglés o un
cadáver tendido en la sierra peruana. Abandonado a estas
cuatro paredes, las secretarias apagan la luz y me permiten
morir en esas alturas, ya tan lejanas al que tomó su número y
enlistado vio la vida vuelta un trámite. Marchando hacia
adentro, despido cada mañana a la humanidad, secándose al
sol como frutas sobre un techo.

Copyright © 2018 Diego Alfaro Palma. Used with permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in Hayden's Ferry Review, Fall-Winter 2017.

Copyright © 2018 Diego Alfaro Palma. Used with permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in Hayden's Ferry Review, Fall-Winter 2017.

Diego Alfaro Palma

Diego Alfaro Palma is the author of several poetry collections, including Litoral central (Editorial Libros de Pez Espiral, 2017). He lives in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

by this poet

poem

translated by Lucian Mattison

Forty years could pass
the sea lions drying their fur on the rocks
and in spite of that I couldn't say anything new
I think about a crab that breaks to pieces
the sand glistens under

poem

translated by Lucian Mattison

Try to find a day for yourself on which you can
iron shirts, wash what can be washed, buy
a new pair of shoes. And this way you’ll arrive at the conclusion