Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Gorgias Resartus


              Omnis scientia est de universali,
                quod est unum in multis, quia de
                singularibus non est  scientia... 
                                                     (Duns Scotus)

The individuum does not exist.

If the individuum exists, it is not knowable.

If the individuum is knowable, it is not communicable.


E. A. Costa 30 October, 2014 Granada, Nicaragua

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

La Bala (Salomón de la Selva)


La bala

La bala que me hiera
será bala con alma.
El alma de esa bala
será como sería
la canción de una rosa
si las flores cantaran
o el olor de un topacio
si las piedras olieran,
o la piel de una música
si nos fuese posible
tocar a las canciones
desnudas con las manos.


Si me hiere el cerebro
me dirá: yo buscaba
sondear tu pensamiento.


Y si me hiere el pecho
me dirá: ¡Yo quería
decirte que te quiero!


Salomón de la Selva

The Bullet

The bullet that wounds me
will be a bullet with soul.
The soul of the bullet will be
as might be the song of a rose
if flowers could sing,
or the smell of a topaz
if stones had fragrance,
or the skin of music
if it were possible for us
to touch songs stripped bare
with our hands.



If it smashes into my brain
it will tell me: I was trying to sound out
your thought.


If it wounds me in the heart
it will tell me: I wanted to tell you
it is you I long for.


Tr. E. A. Costa 28 October, 2014 Granada, Nicaragua


[Original photo EAC. Click on image to enlarge]

Monday, October 6, 2014

Is Life Evaporation?


Is life evaporation?

Do we savor the odor
of the sun?

Or do we sublimate
into the light

and so

again

obliterate

time,

falling

like rain

on


the sea.

E. A. Costa October 6, 2014 Granada, Nicaragua 








Saturday, October 4, 2014

Storm In Far Country Recently Electrificated



Drops on tin
hardly heard—then
torrents and grumbling thunder,

bulls bellowing madly under the metal roof,
cows lowing mercy.

In the murmuring grow rivulets
scowling with flashes of lightning.

The night thirsts for fear.

The corrugated roof
screeches and howls
for seeming hours,
for the sin of protection
or for the arrogance of its erection?

A drip begins by the bed.

Diminution is showers
ungrowing slowly--
what weatherman called them light or heavy?

The rest of the night
is soaking rain with no run off.

City falls uneasily to sleep.

The peasants dream of pigs and chickens and geese
fattened on rice and beans.


E. A. Costa October 4, 2014  Granada, Nicaragua