Kari Krenn

About the poet:

Kari Krenn, born in Argentina, is a writer, poet, teacher.He graduated from the Higher Catholic Institute in 1991, distinguished with a Gold medal.He is a Management Technician and for twenty-eight years he has worked in the Initial and Middle Levels, in public and private schools in Córdoba.Since 2013 he joined the Urpilitay Foundation, of care and containment for motherless children.Author of the novel “Inmarcesible” and “Poémame, between anguishes and hopes” She is Ambassador of the Alma Córdoba Foundation (Fight against Alzheimer’s disease and other associated dementias).Elected as International Associate of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal team of the Republic of Zimbabwe, for translations and global relations, member of the jury in special projects and of the selection team, in other projects of the magazine in the period 2019-2020.She attended as a special guest at the International Book Fair FILH Cuba 2019; to the world’s first poetry symposium in Mozambique, Africa, October 2019; to FILH, Cuba, Words of the World, February 2020.In Argentina, she won the First Prize in the VII Pleamar Intermacional Contest of Romantic Poetry, Necochea, Buenos Aires 2019 and winner of the first place in the III Contest Letters of Paraná 2019.Jovellanos award finalist: “The best poem in the world, 2018” Spain, 2018.
Special mention international poetry contest “Mujeres de hoy”, Italy 2020.

DÍAS SIN DIOSES

Hay días en que el mundo
se obstina de futuro
y tal vez la indiferencia,
sea el idioma común
de los mortales…
El poeta 
que aguijona 
su pregunta:
¿En qué arteria del silencio 
se escurren los vacíos?
Esos que callan,
donde comienzan los ojos
de quien sufre.
De los que toman atajos,
para no mirar tribulaciones
y enhebran excusas
para culpar al pobre.
Cada hombre es un sueño,
tras su nombre
(aunque no todos
lo tienen permitido).
No preguntes,
poeta,
no incomodes,
la moral,
con tu herida poesía… 

DAYS WITHOUT GODS

There are days when the world 
is stubborn about the future
and maybe indifference
be the common language
of mortals …
The poet
with sting
in your question:
In which artery of silence
Are the sounds escaping?
Those who keep quiet
where the eyes start
who suffers.
Of those who take shortcuts,
not to look at tribulations
and make excuses
to blame the poor.
Every man is a dream
after his name
(although not all
They are allowed).
Do not ask,
poet,
do not bother
the moral,
with your wounded poetry …

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