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poems by Andrés Norman Castro Arévalo (in English and Spanish)

Where is my elephant?

Where's my elephant?
They say that in this city
is prohibited to have an elephant
chained to my bed
Where's my elephant?

Where's my elephant?
They say it´s impossible to dream
of owning an elephant,
but dreams are what
distinguish us from them
Now, I know where´s my elephant;
where is your elephant?

(SPANISH)
¿Dónde esta mi elefante?

¿Dónde está mi elefante?
Dicen que en esta ciudad
es prohibido tener un elefante
encadenado en mi alcoba
¿Dónde está mi elefante?

¿Dónde está mi elefante?
Dicen que es imposible soñar
con poseer un elefante,
pero son los sueños los que
nos distinguen de ellos

Ahora se adonde esta mi elefante:
¿Dónde está tu elefante?

Escape Gum

I chew gum
while I walk
every day
over these
burning charcoals,
called streets; in this hell
they call life.

I chew gum and
I make bubbles
against what
ladies shout at,
against the
canons of civility.

They are all jealous
of my bubblegum-flavored gum
and my despised bubbles,
which someday will be enough
to take me away from this life,
far from this monotony.

(SPANISH)
Chicle de escape

Mastico chicle
mientras camino
todos los días,
sobre estas brazas
ardientes, que llaman
calle, en este infierno
que llaman vida.

Mastico chicle
y hago bombas
en contra de lo que
me gritan las señoras,
en contra de los
cánones de civilidad.

Es pura envidia
pues mi chicle sabor a chicle
y mis bombas despreciadas,
algún día alcanzaran
para llevarme lejos
de esta vida, lejos de
esta monotonía

I, woman

The power of the phallus
is at the helm of our silence:
it conceives us acquiescent,
but aspiring to break
the schemes and
splinter their expectations.

Our trail,
our path,
made out of barbed wire,
It’s a journey already designed,
with mandatory detours:
Our wounds are our
silent witnesses.

The power, the system,
men, curtails our cognition.
Insurrectionary cognition
tired of being hurt.

Today we walk upright,
our obliteration precedes us.
Shadows won´t hide anything,
Today light will illuminate
and it will be heard.

(SPANISH)
Yo mujer

El silencio es culpa
del falo y su poder
que nos contempla cabizbajas,
deseando romper esquemas y
quebrantar las expectativas.

Nuestro sendero,
nuestro camino,
hecho de alambre,
de púas. Con trayectos
marcados, desvíos obligatorios
y solo las heridas
como único testimonio

El poder, el sistema,
el hombre, cercenan el lugar
del pensamiento.
Pensamiento rebelde que
ya esta harto de ser herido.

Hoy caminamos erguidas,
nuestra muerte nos precede.
La sombra nada ocultara,
hoy la luz iluminara y
se hará escuchar.

On the run

My mother warned me:
"Mijo, do not walk around as if you´re bulletproof."
I should say I never listened.

I walked in dark alleys;
I was honest with the wrong people:
playing games that I had never won.

Its way past dust, and I am being followed
by demons and humans:
humans in demon shape,
devils masked as humans:
I watch over my shoulder constantly.

Once I reached the top of the hill.
Each step I climbed, hitting my face
was the breeze of victory.
Now I wake up with my fists clenched, in the abyss:
The stagnant air erodes my confidence.

I don´t know if I´ll die tomorrow, but if I do,
Tell everyone who loved me,
to forgive me, but I had it coming.
Their words should have sunk deep into my soul.

(SPANISH)
Palabras de un perseguido

Mi madre me advirtió:
“Mijo, no camine por ahí
como que si es blindado.”
Esta de más decirlo,
no la escuche.

Camine calles oscuras
y le di mi sinceridad
a los tipos equivocados.
Jugué un juego que nunca
había ganado.

Es de noche y me persiguen
demonios y humanos:
humanos en forma de diablos,
diablos enmascarados de humanos.
Me cuido la espalda a cada momento.

Una vez escale hasta la cima.
Cada paso que ascendía, azotaba mi cara
la brisa de la victoria.
Ahora amanezco con los puños cerrados,
En la sima. El aire estancado, corroe mi confianza.

No se si moriré mañana, pero si lo hago,
díganle a todos los que me amaron,
que me perdonen, pero me lo había ganado.
Sus palabras debieron calar hondo en mi alma.

Sparks of Love

 

That moment in which
as a schizophrenic at the institution,
my monologue brimming with feeling
springs back without feedback:
Your silence deranges me.

Like the candy store scene
with the indecision over which sweets to choose;
the restless damsel can´t decided:
this angst splinters me.

On the road the heat
of the esplanade blocks my sight;
destiny is only a few feet away:
shadows are my only companions.

Dusk has become my cruel torturer.
My hands are injured by the thorns:
your blindness cripples me.

Like an addiction to water:
if available, I go berserk,
but without it I fade away:
My body got used to you.

(SPANISH)
Destellos de Amor

En esos momentos,
como esquizofrénico en el hospicio,
mi monologo cargado de sentimiento,
regresa a mí sin retroalimentación:
Tu silencio me enloquece.

Como en la dulcería,
esa indecisión entre las golosinas a escoger:
La niña inquieta no se decide.
Me quebranto ante la ansiedad.

Cuando en el camino me encuentro
el calor en la explanada no permite ver
que mi destino se encuentra a pocos metros del recorrido:
Mi sombra es mi única compañera.

El atardecer se ha convertido en mi cruel tortura.
Mis manos están lastimadas por las espinas:
Tu ceguera me invalida.

Como una adicción al agua:
Esta presente y enloquezco.
Sin ella, desfallezco:
A ti se acostumbro mi cuerpo.

 

Psychotic Shout for Attention

"Hello, welcome to my
personal fantasy.
You can call it hell."
those were my last words
to Alabama.

Midnight road raging,
seeking to quench the thirst
of my basic instincts.
A lonely alley on a bad neighborhood:
I found my lucky victim.

I stopped and offered her
a free ride on my rotating bed.
Promised her I would change her life.

She agreed and hopped in.
As of now, the fifty-dollar fee
started to count.
She would regret her greediness.

(SPANISH)
Grito de atención

“Hola, bienvenida a
mi ultima fantasía.
Tú le puedes llamar Infierno.”
Esas fueron mis últimas palabras
a Silvana.

Conduciendo sin sentido
a la media noche,
buscando saciar la sed
de mis bajos instintos.
En un callejón solitario
en un barrio bajo: He encontrado
a mi victima perfecta.

Me detuve y me ofreció
un momento inolvidable
en una cama rentada.
A cambio le prometí que
la cambiaria de por vida.

Ella acepto y me acompaño.
A partir de ahora, los
Veinte dólares empiezan a descontar.
Ella se arrepentiría de su avaricia.

 

Information on Andrés Norman Castro Arévalo

Andrés Norman Castro Arévalo was born on 1989 in San Salvador, El Salvador; where he still resides. He is a Psychology undergraduate student at the Universidad Centro Americana “José Simeon Cañas” (UCA). He takes advantage of his lyrical potential to express his concerns, protests, and social and emotional complaints in a direct and digestible form: in a simple fashion. These is consistent with his biggest poetic influence: contemporary music.
Andrés has been published in the Spanish literary magazine, "Club de los poetas", the Sunday magazine of El Diario de Hoy of El Salvador, "Hablemos"; the youth magazines "Planeta Alternativo" and "Overnight" in El Salvador; in the Mexican newspapers: "Acapulco Times” and "Red 21" in the Chilean literary magazine "El Club del Cinco" and the literary magazine and the journal of the American School in El Salvador: "Del valle de las hamacas" and "Trojan News" as well as in several virtual anthologies: His work appears on websites cuscatla.com <http://cuscatla.com> , artepoetica.net <http://artepoetica.net> among others. In October 2006 he was invited to participate in public readings of the V International Poetry Festival of San Salvador, organized by the Poetry Foundation of El Salvador.

First and Middle names: Andrés Norman
Last Names: Castro Arévalo
Date of birth: 02/18/1989
Nacionality: Salvadorean
Address: 75 avenida norte, pasaje Tio Conra #25, Residencial Lomas de La Escalon
City: San Salvador
State/Country: San Salvador/ El Salvador
Phone: (503) 2262-2232
Telefax: (503) 2262-4453
Mobile phone: (503) 7435-4066
E-mail: andres.castro@gmail.com