'El verano es una noche eterna de verano', por Fernando Navarro

The summer has become an eternal night of summer, according to the poem written by Fernando Navarro. The piece captures a vivid, almost surreal depiction of life during the late months of June, where the boundaries between day and night blur, and the city transforms into a place where sleep seems impossible. The narrator wakes up with sweat clinging to their skin, feeling the tiles beneath their feet, which are neither cool nor warm. Their clothes lie scattered on the floor, torn, old, as though left behind by someone who has turned into a wolf. This transformation is not just physical but symbolic, marking a shift into a new existence shaped by the heat and the relentless pace of the season. The poem describes a world where the days have ended, replaced by nights that stretch endlessly. The city fills with tourists wearing sandals, people who live far from the sea, in cities tainted by decay and neglect. These visitors, referred to as “guiris,” are portrayed as outsiders who have come to stay, claiming ownership over the land they inhabit. They bring with them a sense of permanence, even as the narrator questions whether they will ever truly belong. The imagery suggests a struggle between different groups within the city, one that lives in the light and another that thrives in darkness, each with its own rules and ways of surviving. The narrator, part of this darker group, finds themselves in a state of constant motion, drinking, eating, and moving through the streets without rest. They take refuge in a terrace overlooking a church painted in ochre tones, a place that feels both familiar and strange. Here, memories of shorter summers resurface, times when fewer people gathered, and the atmosphere was less crowded with distractions. Now, however, the city is filled with people taking photos of things that were never meant to be photographed, and others following the rhythm of the evening, chasing music and entertainment. There is a sense of inevitability in the narrator’s decision to go to the beach, despite their reluctance. The idea of going to see a local band perform, the Lagartija, becomes a point of connection, yet it also highlights the growing distance between the narrator and the people around them. The journey takes them away from the city, toward the coast, where the night stretches into thirty days. It is a time of movement, of searching for meaning in fleeting moments, of trying to find comfort in the presence of others while remaining aware of one's own isolation. The poem concludes with a plan to visit the Albaizín, a hilltop area known for its traditional flamenco performances. There, the narrator hopes to escape the influence of the tourists, the ones who wear sandals and carry the scent of foreign lands. The promise is clear: if they see anyone from that group, they will leave immediately and not return. This decision reflects a deeper yearning for authenticity, for a space free from the intrusion of outsiders, even as the narrator continues their journey upward, towards the unknown. The heat persists, the body is weighed down by the fabric of clothing, and the performance begins, a blend of flamenco, tango, soleá, and alegrías, all played under the watchful eyes of those who remain in the shadows.