Susana Diez from Cortina Montemayor (Huesca, 1966) is a doctor in philology and professor of literature at the University of Córdoba. Combines teaching activity with research and literature; was founder of AulaDiez Spanish online in 2002 and María Moliner Cultural Gathering from the Casa de Aragón in Madrid, which she has coordinated since 2017. A regular contributor to different media, she has written numerous academic and opinion articles, grammar books and Spanish manuals for foreigners. As a poetry writer, she has collaborated in various collective works and is the author of the books poetry (B&V Edizioni, Turin, 1983), The Castle (Manuscripts, Madrid, 2016), The naked voice (Manuscripts, Madrid, 2016)The Odd Path (Manuscripts, Madrid, 2018)Mutations (Manuscripts, Madrid, 2019) and The Blue Olive Grove (Manuscripts, Madrid, 2020). As an essayist, he has published the book The woman and the dreams in the ballad (Mira Editores, Zaragoza, 2021).
FLIGHT
no longer be here
not even having arrived yet.
The change is the place,
and I don’t intend
be somewhere else
that on my flight.
**
The body delivered to you
(skin, heart, brain)
It broke off from yours one winter night.
Frozen whirlpools whipped him with fury,
but he managed to feel
pleasure,
love even,
think
not in you,
but in what you were not,
as if you were no longer there
under the nostalgic roof of the sky:
separated from you,
he continued living.
The soul that your pupils housed
hated that body,
and chose for himself
the path of all loneliness.
The origin was only
a tiny dot
in the fields of light.
Afterwards, always darkness,
I never gave my shadow again.
Blinded to the invisible
I said: “I have no soul”,
I said: «the soul does not exist,
I have skin, I have brains, a heart,
not soul.”
However, a heron
He found her, fainted,
aimlessly through the ether
of clean memories:
“I got lost, I migrated and I don’t know how to get back.”
He picked her up,
light as a feather
detached,
and he took her with him.
I travel like this, since then,
caught by the beak of a heron
who took pity on my sadness,
who took pity on my pride,
who took pity on the fierceness
of my cruel will.
My house is in the night of your eyes,
and a heron takes me back.
Migrations
Susana Diez from Cortina Montemayor
Oliphant
87 pages €10
#Flight #Susana #Diez #Cortina #Librujula
