poems by Fernando Salazar Torres

বাংলা English

An orison to the dawn girl


Today everything is left behind
The Earth´s light at early morning
it´s the time that will be seen growing

Nothing´s left in this life
but a flower growing for you
and, beyond death,
the wind blows like it was a blaze
the mother’s voice sings in your cradle.
-The God’s Allegory she gave to you-

I walk under a streetlight
and by the distance, I think
about you, dawn girl, godly blooming age.


Your heart is the day’s dream
and at your mother’s womb
another light throbs, another light throbs!
No one, no one breaths your perfume.

The crib preserves the emptiness,
each morning, each nightfall
since the original hours, there it grows,
it grows, continuously, the prayer
from the core of the dawn
No one, no one breaths your perfume.

A thorn was tore the glory,
by that crevasse the infinity is reached,
and the wings of another  light now heal.
Everybody talks about you, Pia, Everything carries your name.


What zest will your first tears be?
How will the world be to your presence!
Who will hear your first thought?

What vertigo will you feel when opening your eyes?
Will you feel your blood beat? There is no oblivion
How will the world be to your presence!

What life will come to seed in this prayer!
How will your presence be in this world!
You are the silence to the orison to God.


Everything that will be written you will see, I know it;
I know it, nothing more enthusing that your heartbeat
albeit a madrigal grows as a plea for you.
If I will never glance your blooming girl eyes,
the flowers will paint their sky around you.

The Spring, suddenly, spins and you whirl,
and Elizabeth’s aquarelles open up the clouds,
they enhance your gifts, God is in your will.
How much more light! Let there be more clarity!
Here it comes, in the bells’ beat, here it comes.

Over there, in the other side, what flowers are there for the Sun?
What sky sails above your thoughts?
Is there a place to look at the pole’s aurora?
Here, in this side, I breathe under the whisper,
that suddenly is your heart’s voice speaking to me.

The painter tinges insects but fishes are born,
she sketches fireflies upon white sheets,
they fly under the rain to give us days.
More light, we are drowning, Girl, gives us peace.
Come, come already, as the revelation’s breath.


Someone’s at the door, but no one comes; I can only find the trail, the print of your hands in the soil, they already seed praise. Your perfume dilates the auroras. No one hears the bell calling, but it calls. The bride and groom vow just at the day that the hour is marked at the clock and the heavenly kingdom descend to you, and you are like a cloud. The Cathedral’s watchtower witnesses the Angelus, the air spreads your minuscule body the days of the righteous. Everybody awaits for you and your parents, at every hour, I claim, at every hour, they are your heart’s blood, the promise of enduring and being your garden and, you, a birdie who yearns to fly. You woke up with the very first Paradise carved at your footprint.


To laugh, to live of solitude, to laugh like the one who wakes up at other realm
just to lay down again of faith, head to toe and live of you like that;
to shed tears, to howl life, to cry for you from keeping eyes wide open,
without a body to fell down from the sky, with hope and live you like that;
to live, to laugh destiny, to live from all the will of I don’t know what,
desires of giving up to our flesh like beasts and live like that;
to rejoice, to rejoice the farewell, to always laugh with the strength at the fists
to seed your memory, that will be forever unknown to me, Pia, and then sob,
yes, in silence, like the flower grows, to shed tears, to cry for you, all lifelong.


No one leaves who never comes, and you come.
This invocation is the day of being always today.
To love the bland life, to be always at mornings,
that seek for you the blessed serenity
of the song that I did not decided to write.
Another strength gave me the sign to dream you.
You and I will never meet each other,
but, at heart, we do know how to regard.

The dawn places faces at the window,
that lightens up another faces, they wait
with the rainbow at the sky, and you come like rain.
All the rankness of the family home ascends,
and you, flower of worship, are the dawn at Spring.

Fernando Salazar Torres
  Fernando Salazar Torres (Mexico City). Degree in Philosophy from the Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana, Iztapalapa Unit (UAM-I). Master in Literary Theory (UAM-I). He is studying for a Doctorate in Hispano-American Literature at the Benemérita Universidad Autónoma de Puebla (BUAP) with a research stay at the University of Salamanca (Usal). His poetry and essays have been published in different anthologies and literary magazines. His poetry has been translated into English, Italian, Catalan, Bengali, Serbian and Russian. Director of the literary magazine Taller Ígitur. Coordinates the literary work committee for “Criticism and Thought in Mexico", "Diótima: National Poetry Encounter" and “Dylan Thomas Day” in Hispanoamerica. He collaborates in the literary magazine “Letralia. Tierra de Letras” with the Mexican poetry series “Actual Voices from Mexico” and “Contemporary Spanish Poetry”. He is part of the Caravansary team of collaborators. International Poetry Magazine (Colombia). He is a member of the PEN Club de México. 

©All Rights Reserved by Torkito Tarjoni

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *