{"id":3234,"date":"2026-10-17T19:15:46","date_gmt":"2026-10-17T23:15:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/canasanta.ca\/?p=3234"},"modified":"2026-10-17T19:26:59","modified_gmt":"2026-10-17T23:26:59","slug":"liudmila-quincoses-clavelo-poesia-escogida","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/canasanta.ca\/en\/cultura\/poesia\/liudmila-quincoses-clavelo-poesia-escogida\/","title":{"rendered":"Liudmila Quincoses Clavelo :: Poes\u00eda escogida"},"content":{"rendered":"<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Laminario<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Hacia las cinco he cerrado la puerta,\r\ncierta carta hab\u00eda anunciado que no vendr\u00edas.\r\nYo he visto tu sombra deslizarse hacia el patio,\r\nsolemnemente has cortado una a una las rosas.\r\nHas vuelto y no sab\u00edas qu\u00e9 decir.\r\nUn hombre encerrado dentro de s\u00ed muere poco a poco.\r\nTus lejanos amigos\r\nme han tra\u00eddo noticias de tu estancia en Santos Lugares.\r\nLa Luna, esa rara carta, ha pronosticado la locura.\r\nNo habr\u00edas de morir bajo aquel \u00e1rbol.\r\nLos mercaderes han tra\u00eddo hermosas baratijas\r\ny he querido colgarlas en tu cuello.\r\nUna cruz, un retrato de alg\u00fan maestro florentino,\r\nuna estatuilla de marfil.\r\nTodos saben que has muerto.\r\nEn alg\u00fan lugar de esta habitaci\u00f3n\r\nhe encontrado las cartas,\r\nlas hermosas cartas que nunca escribiste.\r\nDebajo de los retratos est\u00e1n los retratos,\r\nla pared vac\u00eda est\u00e1 llena de rostros.\r\nY el mar que a todas horas ruge me consuela.\r\nQu\u00e9 har\u00e9 conmigo, sin recuerdos.\r\nNoche a noche trato de llorar.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Desde que s\u00e9 tu nombre lo escribo sobre el agua&#8230;<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Desde que s\u00e9 tu nombre lo escribo sobre el agua,\r\nporque de agua es tu cuerpo\r\ny tus ojos son agua.\r\nEse sol ya me anuncia que no has de regresar.\r\nNoche tras noche te he librado de los grandes se\u00f1ores\r\nque con faz tenebrosa tratan de separarnos.\r\nEl universo es s\u00f3lo un c\u00edrculo,\r\nuna sutil serpiente que se muerde la cola.\r\nYo habr\u00eda querido paz y no la tengo,\r\nyo habr\u00eda querido descansar y no hay reposo,\r\nyo habr\u00eda querido ser piedra y soy s\u00f3lo sombra\r\ncomo t\u00fa has de serlo.\r\nPero tu belleza es tanta,\r\nes tanta tu tristeza\r\nque no puedo llevarte a lo oscuro conmigo.\r\nEn aquellos lugares donde la penumbra es luz\r\nsiniestras im\u00e1genes de lo que fue tu rostro\r\nviven en el agua.\r\nEl tiempo no existe,\r\nson dos metales el oro del d\u00eda y el bronce de la noche\r\nimpresos en una misma moneda\r\nque no para de rodar, no se detiene.\r\nAtraviesa laberintos, paisajes dif\u00edciles,\r\natraviesa mi alma atravesada ya\r\ny no llega nunca.\r\nEn los d\u00edas que aqu\u00ed suelen llamarse noches\r\nhe reconocido tu voz\r\nque en el silencio vibra, me condena.\r\nL\u00edbrame del miedo,\r\nyo vivo en las sombras, ll\u00e9vame a la luz,\r\na la intensa luz.\r\nHan venido a buscarte los Siervos del Maldito,\r\nsi en el \u00faltimo momento descubres\r\nmi presencia\r\ns\u00e9 que te habr\u00e9 salvado.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Plaza de jes\u00fas<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Veo la mano aquella que me se\u00f1alaba la plaza,\r\ncomo un deslumbramiento.\r\nMiro los bancos,\r\nla iglesia de piedra hermosa y destruida,\r\ndel Cristo s\u00f3lo quedan los pies,\r\ny en las columnas los huecos de los nichos,\r\nel espacio vac\u00edo de los santos en las paredes.\r\nJugamos al eco,\r\nunos p\u00e1jaros se asustan\r\ny vuelan\r\nen c\u00edrculos sobre nuestras cabezas.\r\nMe muestras la iglesia con mucha atenci\u00f3n,\r\nme muestras los techos,\r\nlas figuras borrosas de los \u00e1ngeles.\r\nEl viento a veces entra y la luz dibuja\r\notras visiones.\r\nComo si fuera la tarde \u00faltima\r\nmiramos al cielo.\r\nEscucho la campana que no existe\r\nllamando a la misa de la tarde.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>\u00daltima estaci\u00f3n<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Me han dicho que una luz se extingue,\r\nque otra vez el cielo vuelve del remoto sitio\r\nen que todo es divino, en que todo se rompe.\r\nS\u00e9 de regiones donde no has pisado,\r\ndonde los hombres cantan\r\ny los barcos mutilados cruzan el oc\u00e9ano.\r\nLa tristeza es vasta, el silencio profundo.\r\nDebajo de la tierra germinan las semillas,\r\ngerminan los muertos con sus dientes juntos.\r\nVi el anillo de oro sucio en el inmenso ata\u00fad.\r\nY tu retrato,\r\nque no volver\u00e1 a parecerme hermoso.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Ocaso<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">No s\u00e9 lo que faltaba,\r\nhab\u00eda una mesa con cinco candelabros,\r\nuna mano en la l\u00e1mpara\r\nque encend\u00eda el ocaso\r\ncomo si fuera un juego de ni\u00f1os,\r\ny la hierba,\r\nesa fin\u00edsima bruja,\r\napuraba la angustia.\r\nEn la confusi\u00f3n de la tarde\r\nfaltaba algo,\r\npero no puedo acordarme,\r\nera tanto el brillo de las tazas de t\u00e9,\r\nera tan terrible el canto de los lobos.\r\nCa\u00eda la noche\r\ny otra cabeza al cesto,\r\ndecapitaba el d\u00eda a su c\u00f3mplice.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Casablanca<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Bajo la luz de la tarde,\r\nbajo el poderoso naranja de la tarde\r\nmiramos el infinito.\r\nMiramos la ciudad como la contemplan\r\nlos ojos de piedra del Cristo.\r\nSentados en el muro,\r\ncon los pies en la nada,\r\nyo observaba\r\nla bandera in\u00fatil,\r\nlos colores de todo,\r\nel verdadero paisaje que se pierde,\r\ncomo el sol, tras los viejos edificios.\r\nSiempre temo decir otras palabras.\r\nVamos a morir,\r\nvamos a olvidar que una vez existi\u00f3 Casablanca\r\ny el hombre que caminara sobre el mar,\r\nel que yace en la piedra.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Arcos sobre el r\u00edo<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Me dan miedo esos arcos de piedra que un d\u00eda se derrumbar\u00e1n,\r\narcos perfectos y misteriosos,\r\nhechos para ser contemplados desde una barca,\r\nen pleno r\u00edo.\r\nLa profundidad del remolino hace ver las m\u00e1rgenes\r\nde otra manera.\r\nMe dan miedo los ahogados\r\nque descansan en los cimientos del puente\r\nesperando que mi barca pase.\r\nSiento sus dulces palabras en mis o\u00eddos,\r\nveo sus cuerpos trasl\u00facidos.\r\nAbandono esos arcos, vuelvo a la orilla.\r\nPero no dejo de sentir esas palabras,\r\nno puedo dejar de ver esas manos,\r\nagitadas en se\u00f1al de despedida,\r\no de reclamo.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Nochebuena<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">En la cocina brillan las luces de la noche.\r\nYo mezclo en un crisol todos los ingredientes,\r\nel agua de la tarde y su fiesta.\r\nT\u00fa dices que en las tardes mis manos\r\nhuelen a ajo, a secretos,\r\na soledad envuelta en condimentos.\r\nSiento que los esp\u00edritus se apuran\r\nen devorar esos sentimientos,\r\nas\u00ed viven los muertos nuestra vida.\r\nHe puesto velas y un \u00e1rbol de Navidad.\r\nDios ha de nacer para morir, pienso,\r\nuna palabra anuncia la belleza.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Duplicaci\u00f3n del trueno<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Te veo sentado al borde de la fuente\r\nmirando el camino que la tarde duplica,\r\nque duplica el trueno.\r\nMueves los dedos bajo el agua imaginaria,\r\nel agua te calma el calor.\r\nEn la plaza hace mucho tiempo que nadie canta,\r\nque nadie aplaude bajo la lluvia,\r\nque nadie saluda el bell\u00edsimo sonido\r\ndel trueno duplicado.<br \/><br \/><br \/><\/pre>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<h2 class=\"wp-block-heading\"><strong>Alguien ha cerrado las ventanas a la plaza<\/strong><\/h2>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">Hay una plaza inmensa all\u00e1 afuera.\r\nMe separan de ella las ventanas,\r\nla madera antigua con que fueron hechos los postigos.\r\nYa no veo la plaza, ahora la imagino.\r\nAhora s\u00e9 por qu\u00e9 ha resistido tantos a\u00f1os.\r\nEst\u00e1 hecha de nada,\r\nde recuerdos que le dan forma.\r\nY uno puede quitar las rejas, las estatuas,\r\nquitar la plaza.\r\nCaminar sobre la tierra espesa.\r\nMirar la iglesia, la torre, el campanario,\r\nsentir el ruido del bronce que ahuyenta las palomas.\r\nMirar la plaza de lejos sobre el puente,\r\nregresar luego a los arcos, a los portales.\r\nRegresar a esas ruinas que a\u00fan no fueron fundadas,\r\nregresar a uno mismo.\r\nY abrir los ojos, las ventanas,\r\ncaminar luego por la plaza.\r\nPalparla tal como es, volver a hacerla,\r\nmorirse de viejo,\r\nfundarla.<\/pre>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Diez poemas de Liudmila Quincoses Clavelo, recuperados \u00edntegramente del archivo hist\u00f3rico de Ca\u00f1asanta, con sus t\u00edtulos y disposici\u00f3n en versos.<\/p>","protected":false},"author":284226809,"featured_media":3239,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_wpcom_ai_launchpad_first_post":false,"_jetpack_hide_featured_image":false,"_jetpack_featured_image_duplicate_dismissed":0,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[33205619],"tags":[33206902,33206632,33205620],"class_list":["post-3234","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poesia","tag-archivo-canasanta","tag-literatura","tag-poesia"],"acf":{"introduccion":"","fuentes_y_referencias":"Texto de Liudmila Quincoses Clavelo, publicado por Ca\u00f1asanta el 30 de enero de 2011, seg\u00fan la p\u00e1gina original. Recuperado de la <a href=\"https:\/\/web.archive.org\/web\/20111113035357\/http:\/\/www.canasanta.com\/poesi-a\/liudmila-quincoses-poesia-escogida-00000001.html\">copia conservada en Internet Archive<\/a>. Se conserva \u00edntegramente el texto de la fuente y se limpia su formato, sin completar ni reconstruir pasajes.\r\n\r\nLa firma abreviada y la semblanza identifican a Liudmila Quincoses Clavelo. Se conservan los diez poemas de la selecci\u00f3n original.\r\n\r\n&nbsp;","autor":[3233]},"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v28.1 (Yoast SEO v28.8) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-premium-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Poes\u00eda escogida \u2014 Liudmila Quincoses Clavelo | Ca\u00f1asanta<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Diez poemas de Liudmila Quincoses Clavelo, recuperados \u00edntegramente del archivo hist\u00f3rico de Ca\u00f1asanta, con sus t\u00edtulos y disposici\u00f3n en versos.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/canasanta.ca\/en\/culture\/poetry-2\/liudmila-quincoses-clavelo-poesia-escogida\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Liudmila Quincoses Clavelo :: Poes\u00eda 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