Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

walking like a mortal The truth is I still don’t know who you are, my black Adonis, but I’ll leave you my wings on the piano’s edge.

from Diary of a Venezuelan Transgender Woman A translation of Ezdras Parra’s poem: “Si me apoyo en el desvelo, vuelvo al mayor asombro...” If I hold on to sleepless nights, I return to the greatest amazement   I travel with birds in my agony and place my defenses in the avalanche or restless months I’m not just passing through and I don’t know how to hesitate although I hear something like a subterranean flow of air under my feet the murmur of my innocence I am the unescorted pedestrian that lengthens the footpath.

from Diary of Venezuelan Transgender Woman A translation of Ezdras Parra’s poem:  Al fin y al cabo solo existe esta sombra harapienta  At the end of the day there is just this raggedy shadow to where I’ve been condemned without pain, without complaining the place where I pound my firewood and grind my bread where I gather my scattered bones there, right there that place from where I’m returning with my piece of the wall.