Natalia Fernández-Díaz

Incessant melody of broken bones…

-I have five perplexities

for chorus and orchestra.

And a hungry army of clocks

To which my ages cannot longer give some food.

The world is mature from hate.

Perseverant winds invade

The trembling intimacy
With their scissors.

You said: “The spring has lost its innocence

By prostituting itself in illustrious beds”.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

Time opens its brutal wings

-quiet and taciturn in the traces
that have caressed thirsty skin in the past
of our poor bodies-
Time gives up in the fingers,
Unable of dying in a different way.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

Life is a tree growing up between the brain

And the will of the muscles.
I am not longer the owner
Of my body.
There are others administrating
My hope and its miseries, the remaining holes of the sky.
I read the world from my window
-texts that birds design in the tunnels
of the time-.

The brain, isolated island with no borders,

With no inhabitants.
Only dark noises, only abandoned bones
Of beings who didn’t survive jokes of life.
I can touch our past
Pretending to be alive.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

Repeating books and sounds

With lips confined in times and spaces
Never experienced before.
I remember my own future,
Existing in a world of perplexity.
I am the shadow of
What I have never been.
-we explore codes
to touch with no hands-.
Ancestral fears have kidnapped
My conscience. I am the only rest
Of myself.

No said words
No said women
Looking for mirrors
Where old wounds
Become eyes to explore
A planet beyond that torture
Which others simply call life.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

STORIES FROM THE BALKANS

Impossible town of impossible dreams.

The hope has to be more obstinate
Than tenacious.
They are too close to history
And too far away from their own future.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

Tirana’s sun: brine on the wound.

Suppurating indolence and avidity of the world.
Battered dogs
Filling intense spaces.
I am many in this
Rotundity of the tediousness.
And the history and its sores
Fall like ashes over our heads.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

Inauguration of the day

With bells and muezzins.
A foam-hurry
Invades the streets
-energy of metastasis-

The wound is invisible

But puts its seeds in our minds
Thanks to the bunkers
And their shady spheres.

Pain inhabits the fruits

That we never enunciate.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

Balkan ashes.
Drops of blood
In the silence of the windows.
Languages once dissolved
In a common wound…
Without having understood
Each other.

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 Natalia Fernández-Díaz

PHYSICAL KNOWLEDGE

I know the pain. We look at each other. We negotiate our mutual

survival.

SEMANTIC HORSES

Imagination is a strange wild horse breaking into a trot irresponsibly,

up and down, in the corners of a world where everything begins to have

sense.

FREE…

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To be free –a wide word to put even the most unsuspected things inside-

is to have no obligation of paying for the monopoly of others’ glory.

Natalia Fernández-Díaz

DISTANCES BETWEEN EYES AND MIRRORS

Winter is just a psychological accident and the spring, a splendorous

state of the spirit. In between a time that fits in my hands and most of

us simply call life.

The worst of a hell is not the hell itself…but the omnipresent window

through which you can look at distant others’ paradise.

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Currently I am in the phase of exploring other cultures, expressions,

forms of negotiation and social sensibility, and in a parallel way

experiencing new dimensions of the language, overcoming its limitations

and silences, etc. That would be the preliminary part of this project

whose estimated number of pages will be 75/80. The eventual (not final)

title is “Incessant melody of broken bones”, the first verse of the first

poem.

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