Tiberíades agradece al destacado poeta croata Tomislav Marijan Bilosnić el haber enviado a nuestra revista sus seis canciones escritas para hacer memoria de Jacqueline Alencar, escritora boliviana-española quien fuera integrante d ela Red Tiberíades. Los poemas, escritos en croata, han sido traducidos al inglés por su hijo Pablo Bilosnić. No hay una traducción definitiva al castellano, pero se puede pinchar este vínculo y tener una idea de los textos:
https://akademija-art.hr/2021/10/30/pjesme-za-jacqueline/

Estos poemas se publicarán en el libro ELLA ES UN ÁNGEL, que está  coordinado desde Luxemburgo- el poeta chileno Marcelo Gatica. También agradecemos a Tomislav Marijan Bilosnić por el retrato que ha hecho de Jacqueline y que hoy publicamos en primicia. Diversos medios de comunicación croatas han publicado los textos ese idioma. Aquí una muestra, en la revista KVAKA:
http://www.casopiskvaka.com.hr/2021/10/tomislav-marijan-bilosnic-rijeka-tormes.html#more

http://www.casopiskvaka.com.hr/2021/10/tomislav-marijan-bilosnic-poezija.html#more

TORMES RIVER FROM THE LIVING ROOM OF JACQUELINE’S
APARTMENT, IN TILES
(Río Tormes desde la sala del piso de Jacqueline, en Tejares

Miraculous Virgin of Health
the blue sky above Tormes hangs like laundry
Jacqueline prays and observes the city mill
and willows (aspens) in the high heat of the window

Tejares, the walls are your letters
writen from east to west
In the place of Lázaro de Tormes
Alfredo Pérez Alencart is sitting behind the window glass
When Jacqueline came out of the living room, a garden appeared,
a fertilized river that flows

Jacqueline writes about Unamun
about the other side of the world, about Christ
without a doubt, most of all about the beloved Alfred
and she wonders what he is doing
so high in the Andes
He sees everything and does not want to forget anything
no garlic, no holm oak,
nor almond trees in bloom

Vaults of clouds under the tiles of the sun
sail past life in leon bathrooms
To the largest and most important[1] city the blind are coming
with the taste ready for everyone’s dream
One poplar tree above the others
born in the river Tormes rises only
to be able to see Jacqueline
leaving her tropical palm trees[2]

From the Roman bridge she looks at Salamanca
in case she doesen’t see it tomorrow
Her eyes seek help, they see
Chamberi and Arrabal[3] in the higher ozone
Salamanca is on the far banks of the
Acre river[4]
At Tejeres train station
there is no one left,
only summer sliding on the tracks

A wreath of love hangs on the skeletons of trees
a mill built into the cemetery
The open cave window is under the bridge
A virgin sails at low water level
My heart tells me you are the queen
and the golden color of your skin
on bloody rubber trees[5]

The pottery market is quite at the moment
the light comes from the table you were sitting
in the living room
next to a large shell named Oceana
The big door opens and the water of Tormes
enters the room rising
to everything you touched
and rushes to memory through memories

Jacqueline, name with too much kindness
like every word in a conversation between friends
The window is still open to the winds
and the setting sun, bloody
as if wounded
What I could never say
let Alencart say
with the words that burned in the passion of your love

A BIRD ON THE RIVER OF TORMES
(For Jacqueline)

On the Tormes river a small bird, an evening star,
disturbed stone of the bridge
ramparts and mountains cut into the sky
The cry of a bird illuminates everything
You will meet Jacqueline here every night
how she greets passers-by
and speakes her verses
words that are not lost with the dead
On the Tormes river a bird with the eyes of a full moon
a wing laid at the heart over the Andes
The flowing water stretches out in the hands
longing for new encounters
Now that it’s all over with the bird in flight
it all starts from the beginning

WITH THE FLAVOR OF SALT, BREAD AND WINE
(Dedicated to Jacqueline Alencar)

At the door of the Colegio Fonseca da la Universidad
Alencart is exposed
In his painting, Jacqueline is waiting for us
He brings suitcases into the basements
The sky falls on us, rolls like stones
A bird sings on the top of a tree
A brief moment of our joy
Jacqueline raises her glass
in a glass a red wine of eternity is imprisoned
Her departure overpowers everything
and my pen trembles on the table
Et pour toi je vaincrai le sommeil et la mort[6]
for you, Bolivian woman, I will get the words
and say we are just a soil
with the taste of bread, salt, oil and wine
It is quite today and thoughts and feelings
are quitely served
at Colegio Fonseca da la Universidad
Oh, Jesus Christ, you broke the bread
and offered the wine
so that the table is never left empty

HOW TO GET TO ALENCART NOW
(For Jacqueline and Alencart)

The Salamanca sun burns in its shadow
In the shadow, Jacqueline with a mirror
in the mirror, all those who carry the earth
in the saddle-bags of Teresa of Ávila
and departures to heaven
Each plant is a big green fire
and how to get to Alencart now
Every balcony on Plaza Mayor
is a rose that no longer wants to return
in its garden
It’s only us that are coming back
into what we were in the light
and in the memory
Shadows belongs to our encounters
at the sun of Salamanca
The sun is looking for its face
in those we loved
and constantly reappears
with the memory of Jacqueline

THE LUNCH AT COLEGIO FONSECA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD
(To Jacqueline and Alfred Pérez Alencart)

The Tiger and the ocelot with families
at the table of the Colegio Fonseca da la Universidad Salamanca.
They get everything and ask for nothing.

July reveals the shadows of the paths they come from.
They do not hesitate to cross them with a shield of books
as a couples in love shout:
We have not done a job
if we do not open it to love.

With an inaudible step
St. John of the Cross enters the conversation
like the sun bending over the arch of the porch.
I don’t know what can happen to us better
than the poetry language conversations
while we drink the red wine dark as a night in Salamanca.

Our bread is like paper
we only have to learn to knead a word
modeled on its whiteness.
The lily-colored tablecloth
are the wings of an angels who observes
everything we do and say.

The winds of the Andes and Velebit are our voices
birds chirping in the silence
and when they disappear for a moment
the sun’s trumpets sound
from the secret cellars of universe.

Still the tiger and the ocelot do not leave
the forgotten paradise.

Salamanca, July 14, 2019

Tomislav Marijan Bilosnić: „Federico García Lorca oranges“, 3000 godina Za dar, Zadar, 2020., pg. 128

ONE DAY IN ÁVILA
(For Jacqueline Alencar)

Alencart drove me to Ávila
in his car
In Ávila i got photographed by Jacqueline,
his wife

They were in a hurry so they continued their journey
through the sleepy valley
to Madrid
The day was still too hot
and everything was potato-colored

I photographed every stone
under the wide open sky
the road and the field around the city

Everything was clay
only Teresa of Ávila was
white marble

From time to time
I would drink a glass of wine
and enjoyed

I was waiting for my friends to call
And then I hear
Jacqueline lost
her camera

Tomislav Marijan Bilosnić: „Federico García Lorca oranges“, 3000 godina Za dar, Zadar, 2020., pg. 143

Translated from the Croatian by Pablo Bilosnić

CANCIONES PARA JACQUELINE
(En croata)

RIJEKA TORMES IZ DNEVNE SOBE JACQUELINEINA STANA,
U TEJARESU

Čudotvorna Djevice od Zdravlja
plavo nebo nad Tormesom visi kao rublje
Jacqueline se moli i gleda u gradski mlin
i vrbe (jasike) u visokoj vrućici prozora

Tejares, zidovi su tvoji pisma
pisana od istoka prema zapadu
Na mjestu Lázara de Tormesa
sjedi Alfredo Pérez Alencart iza stakla prozora
Kad je Jacqueline izišla iz dnevnog boravka ukazao se vrt
oplođena rijeka koja navire

Jacqueline piše o Unamunu
o drugoj obali svijeta, o Kristu
bez sumnje, najviše o ljubljenom Alfredu
i pita se što radi
tako visoko u Andama
Vidi sve i ne želi ništa zaboraviti
ni češnjak, ni crniku,
ni bademovo drveće u cvatu

Svodovi oblaka pod crijepovima sunca
plove mimo života u leonskim kupaonicama
U najveći i najvažniji  grad dolaze slijepci
ukusa spremna za svačiji san
Jedno stablo jablana iznad ostalih
rođeno u rijeci Tormes diže se
samo da bi moglo vidjeti Jacqueline
kako ostavlja svoje tropske palme

S rimskog mosta ona gleda Salamancu
u slučaju da je sutra ne vidi
Njene oči traže pomoć, vide
Chamberi i Arrabal  u višem ozonu
Salamanca je na dalekim obalama
rijeke Acre
Na željezničkoj postaji Tejeres
nema više nikoga
samo ljeto klizi po tračnicama

Na kosturima drveća visi vijenac ljubavi
mlin ugrađen u groblje
Otvoren prozor špilja je ispod mosta
Djevica plovi po niskom vodostaju
Srce mi govori da si kraljica
i zlatna boja tvoje kože
na krvavim stablima kaučuka

Na tržnici keramike ovoga časa je tiho
svjetlost izvire iz stola za kojim si sjedila
u dnevnom boravku
pored velike školjke s imenom Oceana
Otvaraju se velika vrata i u sobu ulazi
voda Tormesa dižući se
do svega što si dodirivala
i preko uspomena žuri u sjećanje

Jacqueline ime s previše dobrote
kao svaka riječ u razgovoru između prijatelja
Prozor je i dalje otvoren za vjetrove
i sunce na zalazu, krvavo
kao da je ranjeno
To što nikada nisam mogao reći
neka kaže Alencart
riječima koje su gorjele u strasti vaše ljubavi

PTICA NA RIJECI TORMES
(Za Jacqueline)

Na rijeci Tormes malena ptica zvijezda večernja
uznemireni kamen mosta
bedemi i planine usječeni u nebo
Krik ptice sve obasjava
Ovdje ćeš svake večeri sresti Jacqueline
kako pozdravlja prolaznike
i govori svoje stihove
riječi koje se ne gube s mrtvima
Na rijeci Tormes ptica s očima punog mjeseca
nad Andama položeno krilo na srcu
Voda koja protječe pruža se u rukama
u čežnji novih susreta
Sad kad je sve prošlo s pticom u preletu
sve počinje iz početka

S OKUSOM SOLI, KRUHA I VIN
(Posvećeno Jacqueline Alencar)

Na vratima Colegio Fonseca de la Universidad
Alencart izložen sam
U slici njegovoj čeka nas Jacqueline
U podrume unosi kofere
Na nas pada nebo, kotrlja se kao kamenje
Na vrhu jednoga stabla pjeva ptica
kratki trenutak naše radosti
Jacqueline podiže čašu
u čaši zatočeno crno vino vječnosti
Njezin odlazak nadjačava sve
i moja olovka drhti na stolu
Et pour toi je vaincrai le sommeil et la mort (1)
za te ću Bolivijko domoći se riječi
i reći da smo samo zemlja
s okusom kruha, soli, ulja i vina
U Colegiu Fonesca de la Universidad
danas je tiho i tiho se poslužuju
misli i osjećaji
O, Isuse Kriste, ti prelomi kruh
i ponudi vino
da stol ni jednoga dana ne ostane prazan.

(1)       Yves Bonnefoy: I za te ću pobijediti i san i smrt.

KAKO SADA DOĆI DO ALENCARTA
(Za Jacquelin i Alencarta)

Sunce Salamance gori u svojoj sjeni
U sjeni Jacquelin sa zrcalom
u zrcalu svi oni što nose zemlju
u bisagama Tereze Avilske
i odlaze u raj
Svaka je biljka velika zelena vatra
i kako sad doći do Alencarta
Svaki balkon na Plazi Mayor
ruža je koja se više ne želi vratiti
u svoj vrt
Samo se mi vraćamo
u ono što smo bili u svjetlu
i u sjećanju
Sjene pripadaju našim susretima
na suncu Salamance
Sunce traži svoje lice
u onima koje smo voljeli
i stalno se javlja iznova
sa sjećanjem na Jacqueline

RUČAK U COLEGIO FONSECA DE LA UNIVERSIDAD
(Jacqueline i Alfredu Pérez Alencart)

Tigar i ocelot s obiteljima
za stolom Colegio Fonseca de la Universidad Salamanca.
Dobivaju sve a ne traže ništa.

Srpanj otkriva sjene putova s kojih dolaze.
Ne oklijevaju ih prijeći sa štitom knjiga
kao zaljubljeni parovi doviknuti:
Nismo napravili posao
ako ga ne otvorimo ljubavi.

Nečujnim korakom
u razgovor ulazi sv. Ivan od Križa
kao sunce koje se saginje preko luka trijema.
Ne znam što nam se bolje može dogoditi
od razgovora na jeziku poezije
dok pijemo crno vino boje noći u Salamanci.

Naš kruh je kao papir
samo nam je naučiti umijesiti riječ
po uzoru njegove bjeline.
Stolnjak boje ljiljana
krila su anđela koji prate
sve što činimo i govorimo.

Vjetrovi Anda i Velebita naši su glasovi
ptičja cika u tišinama
a kada za tren nestanu
jave se sunčane trube
iz  tajnih podruma svemira.

Još uvijek tigar i ocelot ne napuštaju
zaboravljeni raj.

Salamanca, 14. srpnja 2019.

Tomislav Marijan Bilosnić: „Naranče Federica Garcíe Lorce“, 3000 godina Za dar, Zadar, 2020., str. 128.

JEDAN DAN U ÁVILI
(Za Jacqueline Alencar)

Svojim automobilom do Ávile
dovezao me Alencart
U Ávili fotografirala me Jacqueline
njegova supruga

Žurilo im se i put su nastavili
uspavanom dolinom
za Madrid
Dan je još bio previše vruć
i sve je bilo boje krumpira

Snimao sam svaki kamen
pod široko otvorenim nebom
put i polje uokolo grada
Sve je bilo ilovača
samo Terezija Avilska
bijeli mramor

S vremena na vrijeme
popio bih čašu vina
i uživao

Čekao sam kada će se javiti prijatelji
I tada čujem
Jacqueline je izgubila
fotoaparat

Tomislav Marijan Bilosnić: „Naranče Federica Garcíe Lorce“, 3000 godina Za dar, Zadar, 2020., str. 143.

Foto de cabecera: Jacqueline Alencar en una exposición de Miguel Elías

Notas

[1] Tejares is mentioned in history  as the largest and most important city

[2] Thoughts of Jacqueline Alencar

[3] Districts in Tejares

[4] River in Jacqueline’s native Bolivia

[5] Thoughts of Jacqueline Alencar

[6] Yves Bonnefoy: And for you I will overcome sleep and death.