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
City Art Magazine
(Seattle, WA, USA)
Cuban poet Jorge Enrique González Pacheco makes every word stand for a hundred or perhaps a thousand others
The Latin American Review of Books
(London, UK)
© Katherine Wickhorst
New Book
Habitante Invisible
Ediciones Deslinde
92 pages
Madrid, Spain, 2020
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.
Mirta Ojito is a Cuban-American Pulitzer Prize Winning Journalist & Writer.
USA
Spain
France
HABANA
Could you contain my sighs of solitude
by harboring the anxiety in this fragile sea?
On your streets lies the tenderness, aging,
incandescent wind shelters and recalls
them in the distance
the flame anchored in your colors.
Habana,
Lucid, shadowed reminiscent garden
in an infinite insomnia
harnessing the dawn.
Throbbing uniquely,
uniquely understanding,
following the beat, freshness,
watercolor eyes of the city.
Giraldilla, proclamation, mystery,
chaste voice in a calm urge.
I consecrate your vitreaux,
sensing your baroque capitals,
Dusty, unraveled.
I'd like to talk:
Game, rainbow, love,
people, noise, cars;
Essays on flavors.
A captivated rumor,
your arbor dances a naked certainty:
A park, a cloud, summer, God.
The boundary hurts the clef,
the litany resorts to music,
when the stars nurse your elusive chant.
Far… blood calls for your passion,
languishing, nobody edifies it,
in the absent dwelling of your sun, your moon.
The corner dwellers come to my mind,
the adjacent towns, trembling bedrooms.
I seek within you, dear city,
that home, The Cathedral,
that childhood, concrete flesh,
mother's kiss fading goodbye:
upholds my venerated memories.
© Translated by Vanessa Cresevich
London, UK