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Fernando Rendon


The unwary Margarita gave a terrified scream when her delicate foot sank into a gelatinous swamp that called her by name.
For nearly eight endless hours she howled, holding an invisible child in her arms. It rained, and only the word hell could be made out.
The wind and the spring, peer juries, silently condemned her executioners.
Trees leaped, cursing, and then went back to their roots. Pain meandered, eroding the water’s shores.
In the distance: the age of the earth.
Nerves were stung by the poppies’ stalks.
And we waited between patience and impatience.

Maddened plants, we could not run – as in nightmares.
After the supreme effort, we barely held on to life, in the lowest rung of human ridiculousness: a clockwork drunkard.
On the next day, the battered body, the wings more vigorous than ever.

FERNANDO RENDON was born in Medellín in 1951. He has published more than 20 books, including books of poems and anthologies of his poetry. His poems have been translated into almost 30 languages. He directs the Medellín International Poetry Festival and coordinates the World Poetry Movement