Introduction
Recently, while reading the Mexican literary magazine La Otra Gaceta, I encountered the work of Gustavo Adolfo Garcés, the minimalist Colombian poet. Garcés’ extremely brief, sometimes surreal, evocative, and powerful little gems arrested my attention. Upon reading the poem “Fabula,” I was hooked:
“The / hippopotamus / flies / to / the tree top / looks / at the sky / and the seagulls / tumbles down / lands on its back / reads / a blank page / of a letter.”
Writers and critics from many countries have also been impressed with Garcés’ writing.
“Of delicate expression, precise and exquisite, and with the unerring eye of an eagle, Garcés’ poems are born under the imprimatur of water and can be read with the fingertips. In the work of Gustavo Adolfo Garcés, life and poetry coexist with a certainty of their humanity.” — Triunfo Arciniegas
“No facile moralism, nor decoration, nor sentimentalism is present but pure vision, verbal vision, music of the senses. These brief verses appeal to internal song, not the music we’re used to, but a music that is discovered in the very sense of the things he names.” — Jorge Cadavid
I immediately wrote to Gustavo Garcés to tell him how much I enjoy and appreciate his work, and also to ask his permission to translate it. He graciously said yes, and so here we are.
— Carlos Reyes
/ / /
Village
The dog
and the ox
don’t have
masters
the blackbird
scratches
in the garbage
It’s here
the slaughter
happened
* * * * *
Poems
The light
of words
with which
we look at
light
* * * * *
Birds
For those
who listen
it’s all
that’s happening
* * * * *
Deer
Never
has a deer
come
to my poems
the one
that came closest
stayed
in the
maples
grazed
near
the arroyo
I spent all
all afternoon
watching it
* * * * *
Explanation
A boy
rakes
the garden
the nest
of insects
is a country
in ruins
* * * * *
Countryside
Grass
marsh
night
fragrant
kingdom
of crickets
* * * * *
Zapatoca
Plovers
whistle
in the German
cemetery
the sun
sleeps
among
the tombs
beauty
is well and alive
on the farm
of the dead
* * * * *
Tree
The holm oak
is immense
when
the wind
arrives
it fills the tree
with voices
/ / / / /
Pueblo
El perro
y el buey
no tienen
dueño
el mirlo
escarba
en la basura
Aquí fue
la matanza
* * * * *
Los poemas
La luz
de las
palabras
con que
miramos
la luz
* * * * *
Pájaros
Para quien
los oye
es todo
lo que ocurre
* * * * *
Ciervo
Nunca
ha llegado
un ciervo
a mis poemas
el más
cercano
se quedó
en los arces
pastó
junto
al arroyo
Toda
la tarde
estuve
mirándolo
* * * * *
Glosa
Un muchacho
rastrilla
el jardín
la colonia
de insectos
es un país
en ruinas
* * * * *
Campo
La hierba
el lodazal
la noches
fragante
el reino
de los grillos
* * * * *
Zapatoca
Silban
los chorlitos
en el cementeerio
alemán
el sol
duerme
entre
las tumbas
está viva
la bellezaa
en la
granja
de los muertos
* * * * *
Es inmensa
la encina
cuando
llega
el viento
se llena
de voces