Fermento
Y es verdad que ella se cansa,
sus oídos padecen ese tan mío retroceder,
se angustia tras percibir
un tropel de pensamientos, lejos,
más allá de las barcas de estos nuevos años,
cuando no había ni farmacias ni calles picadas por el frío,
(y el coro de los perros
al unísono)
cuando no existía un atalaya de madera oculto entre los pinos
y los sauces,
(y el canto de los gallos al unísono)
y el silencio del que piensa
al unísono.
—Miguel Avero
Ferment
And it’s true that she gets tired,
and what her ears suffer is his recoiling,
she is distressed after perceiving
a crowd of thoughts, far away,
beyond the boats of these new years,
when there were no pharmacies or streets scarred by the cold,
(and the chorus of the dogs
in unison)
when there was no wooden watchtower hidden among the pines
and the willows,
(and the crowing of the roosters
in unison)
and from the silence she thinks
in unison.
—Translated by Jona Colson
Jona Colson is an educator and poet. He is the author of Said Through Glass and translated a collection of poems, Aguas/Waters, by Uruguayan author, Miguel Avero. His poems, translations, and interviews have appeared in The Southern Review, Ploughshares, LitHub, and elsewhere. He is currently a professor at Montgomery College in Maryland where he teaches English as a Second Language and lives in Washington, DC.
Miguel Avero is a poet, narrator, essayist, teacher, and researcher whose work has been translated into English and French. He writes literary reviews for the weekly Brecha and has appeared in various national and international anthologies. Since 2011, he has published nearly a dozen books of poetry and fiction. Between 2017 and 2018, he directed the writing workshop “Puerta Quimera.” He lives in Montevideo, Uruguay.
