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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 The flame is sweet in its place is his last book (Unpublished yet).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
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