Ars Poetica

We present this work in honor of the 75th anniversary of the poet’s death.

Vicente Huidobro
1893 – 1948


Let poetry be like a key
Opening a thousand doors
A leaf falls; something flies by;
Let all the eye sees be created
And the soul of the listener tremble.

Invent new worlds and watch your word;
The adjective, when it doesn’t give life, kills it.

We are in the age of nerves.
The muscle hangs,
Like a memory, in museums;
But we are not the weaker for it:
True vigor
Resides in the head.

Oh Poets, why sing of roses!
Let them flower in your poems;

For us alone
Do all things live beneath the Sun.

The poet is a little God.

Translation by David Guss

A Prayer That You Will Never Forget Me

We present this work in honor of the 75th anniversary of the poet’s death.

Óscar Castro Zúñiga
1910 – 1947



I will start to live in each rose
And in each lily that your eyes will see
And in every bird trill I’ll sing your name
So that you‘ll never forget me.


If you cry as you contemplate the stars
And your soul fills with impossibilities,
It’s because my loneliness has come to kiss you
So that you’ll never forget me.


I will paint a rose colored horizon
And I will paint blue wallflowers
And I will guild the moon on your hair
So that you’ll never forget me.


If asleep you sweetly walk
Through a world of diaphanous gardens,
Think of my heart that dreams of you,
So that you’ll never forget me.


And if some evening, at a far away altar,
You hold another’s hand, and you are blessed,
When the golden ring is placed on your finger,
My soul will be an invisible tear
In the eyes of the moribund Christ
So that you’ll never forget me!

Translation by Joan Veronica

The Four Roads

We present this work in honor of Dia de la Raza.

Juan Guzman Cruchaga
1895 – 1979


Before my window four roads meet.
They called from east, west, south and north,
And into the royal night to greet
The call my vagrant dreams rushed forth.

Yearning by every path to move,
My baffled heart could follow none,
Forever with the moon in love,
With what is dead or what is gone.

Four tempting roads for phantasy,
Beneath the flowers and warbled odes…
Oh, would that my poor heart might be
Perfume diffused over all those roads!

Translation by George Dundas Craig

The Spirits of the Water Carry Me Off

We present this work in honor of the Chilean holiday, Navy Day.

05-21 Chihuailaf
Elicura Chihailaf
b. 1952


I am old, and from a blooming tree
I look at the horizon
How many airs did I walk?
I do not know
From the other side of the sea
the setting sun
has already sent out its messengers
and I am departing to meet
my ancestors
Blue is the place where we go
The spirits of the water carry me off
step by step
Wenulewfv / the River of the Sky
is barely one small circle
in the universe

In this Dream I shall stay:
Stroke, oarsmen! In Silence
I move away
in the invisible song of life.


Translation by Camila Yver


01-21 Caceres
Omar Cáceres
1904 – 1943


The trees are drunk, from nocturnal lights,
and they drag their shadows, nervous and stiff.

Their shadows, strangling the night’s winds,
shelter and rattle me, as if I were a bird.

And my steps echo in their black boughs,
and the weakest hooks fill me with vertigo;

yet when I cast my eye on them from another, simpler pair,
they respond, swaying, that they remained intact;

The leaves, dilating the communal shadows,
return like ruined boats to their tree.

They cannot, oh, attain the solid banks
that the tips of heavenly bodies announce from above,

yet thick with silence they plow, quivering
through deep and frozen ponds of miracle.

And in the nocturnal trees embracing the earth,
I find oblivion and mercy, when in despair,

while the light runs down their boughs,
thin, diaphanous, like water between my hands.


Translation by Mónica de la Torre


We present this work in honor of the poet’s 105th birthday.

12-20 Rojas
Gonzalo Rojas
1916 – 2011



And no more tears; this transparent woman,
who today is sealed away,
this woman who now is walled
in a niche grave
like a madwoman chained
to a cruel bedstead in an airless room
with neither boat nor boatman, among faceless strangers,
this woman who, alone, is
The One,
who held us all in the heaven
of her body.
be her womb.


And nothing nothing else; that she bore me and made me
a man with her seventh birth
her figure of fire
and of ivory
in the trials of poverty and sadness
and she knew
how to hear through the silence of my childhood the sign
the Secret
without ever
a word.
be the fruit of her womb.


Let others go instead of me
I can’t go now to put
the red carnations there
the carnations of the Rojases ‚— mine and yours ‚—
on the painful thirteenth day of your martyrdom
those family members who are born at dawn
and who are reborn ‚— let them go to that wall for us for Rodrigo
for Tomás for young Gonzalo for Alonso; let them go
or not as they wish
or let them leave you in the dark
alone with the ashes
of your beauty
which are your resurrection Celia
daughter and granddaughter of Pizarros
of late Pizarros Mother;
and may you come with us
into exile dwelling as always in grace
and mutual delight.
be thy name.


Translation by Tom Boll


We present this work in honor of the poet’s 240th birthday.

11-29 Bello
Andres Bello
1781 – 1865


Do you know, blonde, what favor I solicit
When I cover the altars with offerings?
Not rich furnishings, not superb lands,
Neither a table that flatters the appetite.

At the edge of Aragua I want a parcel
To supply me with simple pleasures,
And close to my rustic home
A brook that runs among the rocks.

To feel good around the summery warmth,
I also want my plot to have a grove,
Where the proud coconut and the willow can grow.

I’ll be happy if in this refuge I die;
And, upon exhaling my fugitive breath,
I stamp on your lips my last goodbye!


Translation by José Wan Díaz


09-30 Valenzuela
Francisca Valenzuela
b. 1987


Of metal
The city reflects
On my clothing

All equally alone
(Between) the sound and the inertia

Sometimes I only want
A contact
The time
Enough to feel like I’m doing something
Something that makes me special
(Someone that makes me special)

I take off the armor
I remain exposed, I remain in doubt
What I was pretending to be
Melts in my feet
I take off the armor
I remain exposed, I remain in doubt
There’s only organs and skin
And so I let myself fall
My feet are tired from running

Of crystal
The city

I watch as
The secret life
Brilliant courage

All equally alone
The carry the bones on the outside