Made us three

The magic number of your creation

Perfect eloquence

Of its manifestation!

Ramina Herrera

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded several prestigious recognitions for her writing.

TRIDADARAM*

Wise the universe

Made us three

The magic number of your creation

Perfect eloquence

Of its manifestation!

Three points

Of an equilateral triangle

Three, whole number

From 3.1416*

Maybe it’s the pending number

Of this indescribable happiness

That logic does not understand

Derivatives rave

Powers are reduced

And the square roots

They hide underground.

Maybe we will be

That mysterious number

What undaunted minds

Manage to unveil

In unison rhythm

Criminal vertigo

Of ripe nights

Of silent dawns

Between the singing of stars

Or the waning of the full moon,

Primal knowledge

Of winged beings

What did they look for?

Squaring the circle

Or the ten sefirot*

That they talked about squares

Triangles and rhombuses,

They all took us

To mathematize life

And who knows

Yes it is the pure reason

The initial creation

Of our existence

Numbers,

Figures,

Signs,

Symbols

Today they fly free

In my head!

_________________

TRIDADARAM

Sabio el universo

hizo que fuéramos tres

número mágico de su creación

elocuencia perfecta

de su manifestación.

tres puntos

de un triángulo equilátero

tres, número entero

del 3.1416

tal vez sea el número pendiente

de esta felicidad indescriptible

que la lógica no entiende

las derivadas desvarían

las potencias se reducen

y las raíces cuadradas

se esconden bajo tierra.

Tal vez seamos

ese número misterioso

que mentes impávidas

logren develar

al unisonó ritmo

vértigo criminal

de noches maduras

de madrugadas silentes

entre el canto de estrellas

o el menguar de luna llena,

el conocimiento primigenio

de seres alados

que buscaron

la cuadratura del círculo

o las diez sefirot

que hablaron de cuadrados

triángulos y rombos,

todos nos llevaron

a matematizar la vida

y quién sabe

sí es la razón pura

la creación inicial

de nuestra propia existencia…

Números,

figuras,

signos,

símbolos

hoy vuelan libres

en mi cabeza.

______________________

*Trilogy – Tri-3, Da for David, Da for Dania, Ram for Ramina 9Poet and her two kids)

*Sefirot – Term of Jewish Kabala

*The value of pi in math is 3.1416 indicating relationship between the length of circumference and its diameter  

The post TRIDADARAM – A poem from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded several prestigious recognitions for her writing.

Man of the Nile

You arrived stealthily

Wrapped in sweet wind

Giving fresh breath

To me already a notorious spell

The blackbirds flew

The bubbles disappeared

Of the glass half full

And he looked into my cave

The sweet fragrance of dates

You put light on my dark streets

White candles guide my steps

You feed my existence

Cold existence

Of ecumenical sunsets

You nurture them

With the breath of purple canvases

That they cover unharmed

Today my magnificent skies!

***

Arabic Translation

لقد وصلت خلسة

ملفوفة في ريح حلوة

يعطي نفسا جديدا

بالنسبة لي بالفعل تعويذة سيئة السمعة ،

طارت الطيور السوداء

اختفت الفقاعات

نصف الكوب ممتلئ

ونظر إلى كهفي

عطر التمر الحلو.

لقد سلطت الضوء على شوارعي المظلمة

الشموع البيضاء تقود خطواتي

أنت تغذي وجودي

الوجود البارد

لغروب الشمس المسكوني

ترعاهم

مع أنفاس اللوحات الأرجوانية

أنهم يغطون دون أن يصابوا بأذى

اليوم سماائي الرائعة

___________________

The post Man of the Nile – A poem from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded several prestigious recognitions for her writing.

Woman and the Ocean

And my surf

Is taking

Shape and color

The bow looks higher

My sails are racing chestnuts

And if the waves

They get a little angry

There I go,

Clinging to the helm

With salt on the face

And traces of sun on the back

My browse

Became beautiful

Poseidon promised

Take care of my sleepless nights

Calm the most hostile waves

 The vilest of storms

I am accompanied

Of sweet mermaids

That they shelter with their song

The future of my soul

Wrapped in sky blue … which I love…

***

MULIER ET MARI

(Latin Version)

Y mi navegar

va tomando

forma y color

la proa se ve más alta

mis velas son alazanes de carrera

y si las olas

se ponen un poco bravas

ahí voy,

aferrada al timón

con sal en la cara

y rastros de sol en la espalda.

Mi navegar

se volvió hermoso

Poseidón prometió

cuidar mis desvelos

calmar las más hostiles olas

la más vil de las tormentas

voy acompañada

de dulces sirenas

que cobijan con su canto

el devenir de mi alma

envuelta en azul cielo… que me encanta…

___________________

The post Woman and the Ocean – A poem from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.

By Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Someone wrote: And when they ask you why you stayed away from humans? – Tell them that in solitude we have a life…!

Be careful, today I write from my deepest vivid ignorance, theoretically, I know what psychologists, psychiatrists, sociologists, religion, etc. say, but nobody but me knows what it is to feel that emptiness in the plexus, to live next to loved ones and feel them so distant despite the hugs, it is as if a great translucent wall is placed between us and a super machine sucks me away from those I love, leaving a vague trail of faces that disappear into nothingness and I submerge myself.

There where I am only with me, but there is no life as the theory says, there are no smiles but a thousand unanswered questions, a thousand arguments that cross increasingly strange skies and I feel that I am getting lost more, like a girl who walks through hills on moonlit nights but his light is not enough to reach the path that leads him home, like a comet in August that flies in sky blue, happy to have a hand that stops his attempts, then the thread breaks and goes higher for a short time then the vertical fall on uncertain soils; or it goes downhill, noisy dive that breaks to the bones, there are many days that I feel like this, that I am dying in the solitude of my stories, in all the cricket voices that murmur in my brain and time does not stop for order my mazes. They pass, they pass like a train in noisy dance – what do I say to myself now that I am talking with my mirror, trying to heal, I cling tooth and nail to the boat that passes by, whispering, somewhat silent, but with joy, company, sympathy; but empty fingers with giant whips, they hit my dreams and I fall back into that black, pestilential ocean that eats away my seed.

It hurts the abdomen, the eyes and breathing become a necessity because the heart shivers with fear and the colors rise to the face, the body collapses on the crest of a wave as alone as I am and it goes to meet me, it balances me carefully as If it were a piece of wood, it leaves me on the shore, with the sun on my face, sand in my mouth, hair with seaweed and the aroma of salt.

I am awakened by the sound of your footsteps, invisible steps, invisible hands, invisible body, you pick me up in your arms and transfer me to a screen, a cold seventeen-inch screen that exorcises the demons that are sleeping for the moment and let me talk about the void, endless emptiness that I feed with my fears, loneliness is just a story that kills me and revives in my brain, every day, every moment, when the memory appears of the injured girl, of the smelly alcohol or of your face fading, as I know. A snowflake fades.

Loneliness is just a story, that maybe only I … buy it.

***

DE LA SOLEDAD Y OTROS CUENTOS (Latin)

Alguien escribió: ¿Y cuando te pregunten por qué te alejaste de los humanos? __ Diles que en la soledad tenemos una vida…!!

Ojo, hoy escribo desde mi más profunda ignorancia vívida, teóricamente sé lo que dicen psicólogos, psiquiatras, sociólogos, religión, etc, pero nadie más que yo sabe lo que es sentir ese vacío en plexo, en vivir al lado de seres amados y sentirlos tan distantes a pesar de los abrazos, es como si un gran muro translúcido se pusiera entre nosotros y una súper máquina me succionara alejándome de los que amo, dejando una vaga estela de rostros que van desapareciendo en la nada y me sumerjo en mis adentros.

Allí donde solo estoy conmigo, pero no hay vida como dice la teoría, no hay sonrisas sino mil preguntas sin respuestas, mil argumentos que surcan cielos cada vez más extraños y siento que me pierdo más, cual niña que camina por cerros en noches de luna pero su luz no basta para llegar al camino que le conduzca a casa, como cometa en agosto que vuela en azules cielos, feliz de tener una mano que detenga sus intentos, luego se rompe el hilo y va más alto por corto tiempo luego la vertical caída en suelos inciertos; o va en picada, picada estrepitosa que le rompe hasta los huesos, hay muchos días que así me siento, que voy muriendo en la soledad de mis cuentos, en todas las voces de grillos que murmuran en mi cerebro y el tiempo no se detiene para ordenar mis laberintos. Pasan, pasan como tren en ruidosa danza __ qué me digo ahora que converso con mi espejo, sanar intento, me aferro con uñas y dientes a la barca que cerca pasa, susurrante, un tanto silente, pero con la alegría, compañía, simpatía; pero vacíos dedos con látigos gigantes, golpean mis sueños y caigo nuevamente a ese océano negro, pestilente que carcome mi simiente.

Hiere el abdomen, los ojos y el respirar se vuelve necesidad porque el corazón tirita de miedo y los colores se suben al rostro, se desploma el cuerpo en la cresta de una ola tan sola como yo y va a mi encuentro, me balancea cuidadosamente como si fuera una pieza de madera, me deja en la orilla, con el sol en la cara, arena en la boca, cabellos con algas y aroma a sal.

Me despierta el sonar de tus pasos, pasos invisibles, manos invisibles, cuerpo invisible, me levantas en brazos y me trasladas a una pantalla, fría pantalla de diecisiete pulgadas que exorcizan los demonios que por el momento duermen y me dejan hablar del vacío, interminable vacío que alimento con mis miedos, la soledad es solo un cuento que me mata y revive en mi cerebro, cada día, cada instante, cuando el recuerdo se asoma de la niña injuriada, del alcohol mal oliente o de tu rostro desvaneciéndose, como se desvanece un copo de nieve.

La soledad es solo un cuento, que tal vez solo yo…lo compro.

Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing.

The post Tales of Solitude – Poetic prose from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing.

Another Face

I found a mask

An abandoned mask

All dirty

Battered

And I decided to take her home

Clean it

Fix it

And then I left her

In the same place

To be found

For someone who connects with his soul.

I abandoned her

It’s true, I don’t deny it

And I don’t explain myself

How did it come back to me

If neither the face nor the steps I returned,

Puzzled I looked

Because it reflected a bad memory

Souvenir similar to the mask

That they carved on my face

At the tip of a loud voice

And stitching my words!

Today I bumped into

On the wall with her

After long years

To ignore her

Glowed

Smiled

And remember

What was I

That, in that dirty street, he left her,

But minutes later

In my bag, it appeared.

Time passed

And I understood

That nothing was a coincidence

Just causality

The mask found me

To understand

To heal

Transcend

Forgive

And maybe

Love again …

***

ALIUS FACIES (Latin)

Encontré una máscara

una máscara abandonada

toda sucia

maltratada

y decidí llevármela a casa

limpiarla

arreglarla

y luego la dejé

en el mismo lugar

para ser encontrada

por alguien que conecte con su alma.

La abandoné

es cierto, no lo niego

y no me explico

cómo regresó a mi

si ni el rostro, ni los pasos volví,

perpleja miré

pues reflejaba un mal recuerdo

recuerdo similar a la máscara

que tallaron en mi cara

a punta de voz alta

y cosiéndome las palabras.

Hoy me topé

en la pared con ella

tras largos años

de ignorarla

resplandecía

sonreía

y recordé

que fui yo

que, en aquella calle sucia, la dejó,

pero minutos después

en mi bolso apareció.

Pasó el tiempo

y comprendí

que nada fue casualidad

tan solo causalidad

la máscara me encontró

para entender

para sanar

trascender

perdonar

y quizás

amar otra vez …

____________________

The post Another Face – A poem from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing.

  

Sky

My sky blue

Immense,

Handsome

Same mirror

Of your beautiful universe,

You give meaning to my joy

And complement the rose garden

That I managed to create with my chimeras,              

Perfect accomplice

Sleepless early mornings

Of suspicious exits

Of desperate pencils

Drowning in the temptation

From the well that emanates

From that star so far away

And so close to our gaze.

Lover of letters

That you write with the ink of your lineage

You hang out with Borges, Sábato, Cortázar

Gabo, Charles, Eielson, Varela,

And countless mythical beings

That surrounds you and surrounds me

In whirlwinds of words

Sensations,

Broken, patched, human follies,

That gives us hope

Hope or sweet agony

That dies in the mouth

In afternoons with cold and drizzle

Like today

In the middle of the square

In a short talk

You … in the light of a heartbeat … you

***

CAELUM (Latin)

Mi azul cielo,

inmenso,

hermoso,

mismo espejo

de tu bello universo,

das sentido a mi alegría

y complementas el jardín de rosas

que logré crear con mis quimeras,

cómplice perfecto

de madrugadas insomnes

de mutis sospechosos

de lapiceros desesperados

ahogándose en la tienta

del pozo que emana

de aquella estrella tan lejana

y tan cercana de nuestra mirada.

Amante de las letras

que escribes con la tinta de tu linaje

andas con Borges, Sábato, Cortázar

Gabo, Charles, Eielson, Varela,

e innumerables míticos seres

que te envuelven y me envuelven

en torbellinos de palabras

sensaciones,

locuras rotas, parchadas, humanas,

que nos dan esperanza

esperanza o dulce agonía

que mueren en la boca

en tardes con frío y llovizna

como hoy

a mitad de la plaza

en una breve plática.

Tú… en la luz de un latido… tú

______________________

The post Sky – A poem from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing.

Run Now

Don’t try to know

The dark abyss of my existence

You are in danger

Of getting caught in neural networks

Of catharsis and deep screams,

Of the girl who saw the pain

Tear

Eat its prey

And endure the stench

Of scattered viscera horror

Don’t pretend to know me

Better silence your arguments

And be quiet, as the stones are silent

To the passage of black clouds

Loaded with torrential rains,

Do not sin, be insightful

Thinking you know what I feel

You don’t know the terrain

Don’t stumble

With some burial

Unveiled the mystery

Return to normal human life

Go back to your noisy city

To your daily run for bread to take

Leave me in the limbo of my chimeras

In those caverns, sacred and eternal

Where the darkness makes my footsteps shine

And my eyes wait

To the angel who gave me his wings

That day when life crushed me!

______________

Spanish

CORRE, AHORA

No intentes conocer

el oscuro abismo de mi existencia

corres peligro

de quedar atrapado en redes neuronales

de catarsis y gritos profundos,

de la niña que vio al dolor

desgarrar

comer a su presa

y soportar el hedor

de vísceras esparcidas__horror.

No pretendas conocerme

mejor silencia tus argumentos

y calla, como callan las piedras

al paso de nubes negras

cargadas de torrenciales lluvias,

no peques se perspicaz

pensando que sabes lo que siento

no conoces el terreno

no vayas a tropezar

con algún entierro.

Develado el misterio

vuelve a la vida normal de humano

vuelve a tu ruidosa cuidad

a tu correr diario por pan llevar

déjame en el limbo de mis quimeras

en aquellas cavernas, sagradas y eternas

donde la oscuridad hace brillar mis pisadas

y mis ojos esperan

al ángel que me regaló sus alas

aquel día cuando la vida me aplastaba.

________________

Transformation

Scream the barefoot mirror

Hug me!

That I am dying;

I observe its roots

Its environment

Her footprints

And

I get it

That

Only

Is

Alchemy!

_____________

Spanish

TRANSFORMACIÓN

Grita el espejo descalzo

¡abrázame!

que estoy muriendo;

observo sus raíces

su entorno

sus huellas

y

entiendo

que

solo

está

alquimizando.

________________

The post Run Now – Poetry from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.

Ramina Herrera Arteaga

Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing.

Existential Sunset

Dusk,

And near the river

I breathe in its noisy flow,

Little water,

But enough to scream its mysteries

To cast light shines straight to the heart

To heal human confusions

Silly confusions that consume the soul

As if that solves

The dilemma that obstructs your consciousness!

I waste so much time thinking

The way how to solve

I die every day with the cross that I carry inside

And it is the greatest stupidity that I commit,

Well, I can do nothing

Without the blessing of the Architect,

I want to internalize

The Release and Trust lifestyle

Since in his grace and goodness

Nothing bad can happen to me,

So they will cast bitter spells

Trying to break my steps

From your hand my Lord

I want to walk

Listening inside

The true message of your love…

***

Dead Fingers

My fingers have died

What do I do without them I wonder?

Now what I want to write

On new horizons to discover

My perspective change is arranged the other way around.

Upside down because I’m in front of thousands of mirrors

That cover my dimensions and their reflections

Its reflections bare my soul, my thoughts,

That loose from bones wish for new beginnings

What do I do now that I have no fingers?

***

Like the Mouth of the Dead

A cold and gloomy afternoon

August

August

Cloudy, silent,

Like a dead man’s mouth

Who comes to see me

Bringing adages,

Speeches of ancient beings

Sylphs, undines

Or necromancers

That fell on my conscience

To finally wake up!

You arrive,

You arrive

And bristle my skin

My hair

Which wild horse

In the middle of this trail

You shake my brain

With your silent voice

But I understand

How do you understand

The earth

That the rain peeks out!

_________________

The post Existential Sunset – Poetry from Peru first appeared on Sindh Courier.