From the wall sprouts,
like a dampness,
the old facade
of a tavern
that no longer exists.

The place
where I drank
three hundred and thirty-three
glasses
of lager.

I have been looking intently
because I feel like I hear myself laughing
within the wall.

Although in those old times,
—it’s true—
I laughed
very,
very little.

I look at this wall
and, from its joints,
spring
pollinated plants,
I myself
in the euphoria
of my twenty years,
the way in which I remember
and speak of myself,
the way in which I am
and perpetuate myself,
untainted woman,
precarious woman,
morning glory,
an exact point of virtue,
that cannot be found.

I see
what I remember.
And the rest
dissolves.

A painting
collapses
—drips, seeps, falls—
after the wash
of turpentine.

The old image
of what I remember
rekindles
and thickens,
against the wall,
keeping me from seeing
that I am getting older:
a candy shop of oil.

Chain bakery.
Spaces for non-smokers.
A heap of oxygen.

[Del muro brota, . . . ]

Del muro brota,
como una humedad,
la antigua fachada
de una taberna
que ya no existe.

El lugar
donde libé
trescientas treinta y tres
jarras
de cerveza rubia.

Me he quedado mirando fijamente
porque tengo la sensación de que me oigo reír
dentro del muro.

Aunque en aquellos tiempos,
—es la verdad—
yo me reía
muy,
muy poco.

Miro ese muro
y, de sus junturas,
nacen
polinizadas flores,
yo misma
en la extática visión
de mis veinte años,
el modo en que me recuerdo
y hablo de mí,
el modo en que soy
y me perpetúo,
mujer sin amasar,
mujer precaria,
campanilla,
un punto justo de virtud,
que no se encuentra.

Veo
lo que recuerdo.
Y lo otro
se diluye.

Un cuadro
se desmorona
—chorrea, se filtra, cae—
tras el barrido
del aguarrás.

La imagen antigua
de lo que yo recuerdo
revive
y se espesa,
contra el muro,
impidiéndome ver
que me hago mayor:
tienda de golosinas de petróleo.

Franquicia de pan.
Espacios para no fumadores.
Un montón de oxígeno.

—

Marta Sanz has published fifteen prose works, as well as several essay and poetry collections. She has received numerous awards, including one of the Spanish-speaking world’s most prestigious, the Herralde Novel Prize, for 2015’s Farándula (Show Business).

Sam Krieg is an educator, scholar, and translator living in central North Carolina. He received his doctorate in Spanish from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. His publications can be found in International Poetry Review, Dieciocho, South Atlantic Review, and elsewhere.