Jorge Enrique González Pacheco

Jorge Enrique González Pacheco has amassed such a sizable list of titles—poet, lecturer, teacher, filmmaker, co-founder of the Seattle Latino Film Festival, and Seattle Mayor’s Arts Award recipient  see more

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 City Art Magazine

(Seattle, WA, USA)

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Cuban poet Jorge Enrique González Pacheco makes every word  stand for a hundred or perhaps a thousand others

see more

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The Latin American Review of Books

 (London, UK)

  ©  Katherine Wickhorst

New Book

Habitante Invisible

Ediciones Deslinde

92 pages

Madrid, Spain, 2020

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The poetry of Gonzalez Pacheco in Invisible Dweller ennobles us as readers, transporting us to a universe where seemingly only words exist. Words and feelings.​

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Mirta Ojito is a  Cuban-American Pulitzer Prize Winning Journalist & Writer. 

USA

Spain

France

INVISIBLE DWELLER

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Cull our loneliness; tis an unspoiled secret youth.

I want to be with you,

within your walls,

within your sundry deaths.

I want to clutch your voice,

make it bear the hours to the fringes

of my stubborn and insatiable yearnings. 

I will always want

the forests, the mantles, the shadows,

open in the distance tearing the air that I breath.

I want a prayer,

an Eden in my serenity, a thought:

an impotent shudder.

I want your crown,

my blood into wine

a chimera in your due time.

I want to come back,

your blue within my home,

perchance in a callow scampering hamlet.

I want my words upon your art,

I shall wear it naked and deaf

by the gleam of its early light.

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© Translated from Spanish by Carl Tanne

HABITANTE INVISIBLE

Elige nuestra soledad; pristina es su juventud secreta.

Quiero estar contigo,
buscarte dentro de tus muros,
de  tus muerte.
 

Quisiera retener tu voz,
hacerla parir horas que compartan sus lados
mis rígidas e insaciables añoranzas.

Quiero siempre,
los bosques, mantos, sombras,
abiertos a la distancia que rasga mi aire.

Quisiera la oración,
Edén en mi calma, pensamiento:
Temblor, inerme.

Quiero tu corona,
sera de mi sangre el vino
ya quimera en tu momento.

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Quisiera volver,

dentro de tu azul mi hogar.
Galopes de pueblo tal vez recientes.

Quiero mi palabra sobre tu arte,
yo  le calzo sordo y desnudo
a inicios de esta luz.