"En la era de la fragmentación y la delimitación, el proyecto Poetry Parnassus promueve la convergencia a través de elementos comunes".
RAÚL HENAO
Colombia
For a poet living in a country once known principally
for its kidnappings, murders and drug trafficking, it is perhaps understandable
that Raúl Henao is preoccupied with the moral shortcomings of that nation. Born
in the city of Cali, western Colombia, Henao now lives in the country’s second
city, Medellín. In the tradition of the poète maudit, living on the fringes of
society, Henao declares himself to be an “insular or marginal poet, out of
disgust at Colombia’s political and social life”. According to him, “You cannot
have lived these past 50 years in Colombia without despairing on behalf of the
human condition”.
Although Henao, who has spent time in Venezuela,
Mexico and the US, describes the UK as “an insular nation”, he yet considers it
“the very embodiment of democracy, both as a political ideal and a form of
representative government that is so central to western culture”.
The idea of being in London for Poetry Parnassus, when
part of the South Bank of the Thames will be “magically and brilliantly air-bombed
with poems” excites him. “I like the idea of the ‘poetic games’ as a spiritual
counterpart to the ‘sports games’, similar to what was done in illo tempore in
classical Greece.” And what of the real Olympics? The emphasis on the “games as
a liberating force” for humankind cannot be other than positive, he says. But
poetry is the nobler cause. “It will always be at the forefront of the great
spiritual conquests of humanity.” That is why, he says, “A poet is someone who
gives life through the written word, not just someone who gives life to the
written word”. AS
‘The World Record:
International Voices from Southbank Centre’s Poetry Parnassus’, edited by Neil
Astley and Anna Selby, is published this month (Bloodaxe Books/Southbank
Centre, £10)
EMPTINESS (En hueco).
One morning I awoke empty
There remained not the
slightest trace of
me in the room
My body took indistinctly
the form of
whatever object
was in reach
I did not succeed in looking
at myself in
the mirror
I could not even locate the
bottom of my
pockets
Not one single hair lay on
the very white
sheet
Then I opened the room door:
I had left myself outside.
©
Translation by Raúl Henao, 1998, from ‘La vida a la carta/Life a la carte’,
published by Festival Internacional de Poesía de Medellín, Ed. Hipnos.
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