Albert Roig

Albert Roig Poems

— "The April dead, the narcissi,
and the light, now at its brightest, and the River that carries us away.
And it's the dark Heaven shining and it is all shadow of burning jewel
and with burning heart the bare Night, as a girl, white, jasmine.
...

Kiss me and allow a dead mouth
to rot on yours
and let the stinking flesh of my dusk
sing it to you the old bird
...

3.

I

Now
the clear night you enter,
Night, you who burn in our hearts.
...

I

Dripping, placidness—
of wings,
skin,
...

This rain
of black fish, of eyes,

and the mud-bricks of the houses,
and the reedbed, you who speak to
...

I

How everything shines with you beside me
asleep, clean greeness, glass,
...

7.

The soul soon poisons the body and takes on sickly forms, it does not
bear being looked at. Some of them carry it inwards, for the others it
is shadow. Nobody walks close by.
...

Albert Roig Biography

Albert Roig (Tortosa, 1959) is a poet, essayist, translator and teacher at the Theatre Institute in Barcelona. He has published two books of poems, Córrer la taronja, 1979-2001 (Run the Orange, 1979-2001, 2002), and A l’encesa ([Fishing] With Light, 2007). He has written the following books of essays: L’estiu de les paparres (The Summer of the Pests), El gos del poeta (The Poet’s Dog), Creació del poema (Creation of the Poem) and I pelava la taronja amb les dents (Ars amandi) [And Peeled the Orange with the Teeth (Ars amandi)].)

The Best Poem Of Albert Roig

Ankunft To R. M. Rilke

— "The April dead, the narcissi,
and the light, now at its brightest, and the River that carries us away.
And it's the dark Heaven shining and it is all shadow of burning jewel
and with burning heart the bare Night, as a girl, white, jasmine.

Here within is where you should stay, inverted flower
still caught in the warm water, still weightless.

Until, the Face of Heaven, you break your waters
and reveal yourself at last. Your first tears. Like a sea and eyes.
With eyes just dawning, the sea, deep pupil from which we are reborn.

We have welcomed you. To the white room of pain.
And the lips of pain, that close again. And the white springs.
On our last day we rebel because we are so light.
Just petals of scent".

Translated by Anna Crowe

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