{"id":23318,"date":"2025-03-12T13:10:00","date_gmt":"2025-03-12T12:10:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/en\/?post_type=stsp_text&#038;p=23318"},"modified":"2025-03-12T16:45:25","modified_gmt":"2025-03-12T15:45:25","slug":"alexander-caro-poemas","status":"publish","type":"stsp_text","link":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/en\/text\/alexander-caro-poemas\/","title":{"rendered":"Poemas"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>VOCACI\u00d3N<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Me entusiasmaban los aviones de papel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Lentos al alzar vuelo, r\u00e1pidos al girar, perdidos en el aire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Pero eran los de otros ni\u00f1os.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Los m\u00edos ca\u00edan, a pesar del cuidado en los pliegues,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">en una par\u00e1bola suicida.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Desdoblaba la hoja para encontrar una raz\u00f3n<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">y la respuesta era blanca.<br><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Entonces llegaron las lluvias.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">La creciente arrastraba ramas y almendros por las calles,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">gorgoteando, desbord\u00e1ndose,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">cortando cada nacimiento<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">a ras de las nubes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">El olor de la ci\u00e9naga desahogada,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">las notas que escrib\u00eda antes de zarpar\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Lanzaba el peque\u00f1o barco al torrente<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">y el peligro de naufragio era m\u00e1s real,<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">m\u00e1s lleno de historia<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">que la ficci\u00f3n banal de los aviones de papel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Las mujeres miraban desde las ventanas<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">al ni\u00f1o de botas que hablaba a las aguas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Por la noche repasaba el viaje en mi mente:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">el barco seguir\u00eda siendo barco, perdido entre pantanos,<br><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">a\u00fan m\u00e1s cierto, porque yo no estaba all\u00ed para verlo.<br><br><br><br><br><strong>LOS FALSOS ANUNCIOS<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">El viento trae el fragor de truenos distantes.<br><br>Sobre los tejados se desvanecen los caprichos de la tarde&nbsp;<br><br>mientras una balandra en ca\u00edda&nbsp;<br><br>cubre el cielo con sus velas oscuras.&nbsp;<br><br>Pero el d\u00eda se aclara<br><br>y todo entra en el letargo de la espera.<br><br>La tormenta no llega con sus historias de piratas<br><br>a juntarse con las aguas de abajo,<br><br>donde se han refugiado los animales del jard\u00edn.<br><br>Es un ni\u00f1o que patea un ovillo de hojas:<br><br>parecen tomar vuelo con un soplo ligero<br><br>y luego van como ciegas por la calle&nbsp;<br><br><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">ccccccccccccc<\/mark>entre el polvo seco.<br><br><br><br><br><strong>OCTUBRE TARDIO<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">El aura oto\u00f1al de las ramas lleg\u00f3 con un brillo de m\u00e1s<br><br><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">ccccccccc<\/mark>Qu\u00e9 espect\u00e1culo<br><br>las hojas amarillas<br><br><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">cccccccccccccccccc<\/mark>cubriendo los restos de la vida anterior<br><br><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">cccccccccccccccccc<\/mark>regias sobre el alma olorosa del Urap\u00e1n<br><br><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">ccccccc<\/mark>y el patio al que daban sus hojas tapando el canal en las noches de lluvia<br><br><br><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">cccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc<\/mark>las rojas<br><br>del deseo aplacado<br><br>con un habla que se roba las cartas&nbsp;<br><br>y las lee en la voz del amor que no lleg\u00f3.<br><br><br><br>Desde que llevan la tierra suspendida<br><br>en la certeza de caer<br><br>cada d\u00eda en los ramajes de octubre es distinto<br><br>y la tarde cae m\u00e1s llena de espacio&nbsp;<br><br>a recortar sus siluetas&nbsp;<br><br>sobre el fondo de un leve letargo,&nbsp;<br><br><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">ccccccccc<\/mark>en la estaci\u00f3n callada<br><br>cuando el a\u00f1o ya engendra sus primeros recuerdos&nbsp;&nbsp;<br><br>y hay quienes van al caf\u00e9 a mirar tras las ventanas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-right wp-block-paragraph\">Alg\u00fan solitario a\u00fan se atreve a cruzar pensativo<br><br>a lo largo del Tempelhofer Feld<br><br>y arrastra el follaje con sus pies<br><br>como queriendo entrar de nuevo al paisaje.<br><br><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><mark style=\"background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)\" class=\"has-inline-color has-white-color\">ccccccccccccccccccccccccccc<\/mark>En las predicciones del tiempo asoman frases de hor\u00f3scopo:<br><br><br><br>Los vientos contrarios no van a ning\u00fan lado&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br><br>no se distancian&nbsp;<br><br>ni acercan nada<br><br>pero coinciden donde quiera que vayas<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-paragraph\">para hacer de tu cuerpo<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-paragraph\">el centro del c\u00edrculo m\u00e1s desolado.&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>VOCACI\u00d3N Me entusiasmaban los aviones de papel. Lentos al alzar vuelo, r\u00e1pidos al girar, perdidos en el aire. Pero eran los de otros ni\u00f1os. Los m\u00edos ca\u00edan, a pesar del cuidado en los pliegues, en una par\u00e1bola suicida. Desdoblaba la hoja para encontrar una raz\u00f3n y la respuesta era blanca. Entonces llegaron las lluvias. La [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":23118,"template":"","categories":[62,11],"class_list":["post-23318","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-31","category-lyrik"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v28.7 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Poemas - stadtsprachen<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/de\/text\/alexander-caro-poemas\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale:alternate\" content=\"de_DE\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Poemas - stadtsprachen\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"VOCACI\u00d3N Me entusiasmaban los aviones de papel. 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