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Luis Eduardo Rendón was born in Roque, Antioquia, Colombia, in June 1972. He has published the following poetry books: Harp at the Mercy of Invisible Hands, 1996; The Speed of Stones is Blue, 1997; Universal Gong Night, 1997; After the Spectral She-Wolf, 1998; Mercurio Square, 2000; Book of Presages, 2011; The Oldest and Purest Game Never Ends, 2014. The flame is sweet in its place is his last book (Unpublished yet).

He has belonged since his early years to the organization of the International Poetry Festival of Medellín, to the Prometeo Art and Poetry Corporation, and to the Editorial Board of Prometeo Magazine. He is the program coordinator of the Medellin International Poetry Festival.

For Medellin International Poetry Festival :

https://www.festivaldepoesiademedellin.org/es/Festival/

For Revista Prometeo:

https://www.festivaldepoesiademedellin.org/es/Revista/ultimas_ediciones/


~ INFANCIA – CHILDHOOD ~

From Luis Eduardo Rendón’s Poetry Book,

EL JUEGO MÁS ANTIGUO Y PURO NO TERMINA


English translation by G. Leogena

En el árbol genealógico

de la luz, la mirada

es la niña recién nacida


SOL EMPLUMADO

Al huir, derramó la noche

sus gemas de rocío,

y entonces surgió el colibrí


La piedra

esculpida por el agua

recuerda su infancia de fuego


Para volver

a la infancia

sólo conviértete

en la Tierra

con todo tu ser


El viento

es el padre

de los secretos,

los lleva

hasta las bocas


La lluvia,

mediúmnica,

rebosa de mensajes


El rayo

es el juego

de un dios

que no pudo

ser olvidado


En la infancia cabalgamos

relámpagos y aún perdura

ese resplandor


Noche, trébol

de las mil y una hojas


Pensamiento

jardín de relámpagos


El nado transparente

de las aves,

el vuelo transparente

de los peces


La eternidad

visita tu jardín,

como un colibrí

In the genealogical

tree of light, the gaze

is the newborn girl


FEATHERED SUN

In its escape, night spilled

its gems of dew, and so

burst forth the hummingbird


The stone

sculpted by water

remembers its childhood of fire


To return

to infancy

just become

the Earth

with all your being


The wind

is the father

of secrets,

he takes them

to mouths


The rain,

like a medium,

overflows with messages


Lightning

is the game

of a god

who could not

be forgotten


In childhood we rode

lightning and that brightness

still remains


Night, clover

of the thousand and one leaves


Thought

garden of lightning


The transparent swimming

of birds,

the transparent flying

of fishes


Eternity

visits your garden,

like a hummingbird


Rating: 5 out of 5.

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