Tactica y Estrategia

My tactic is to look at you

To learn how you are

Love you as you are

My tactic is to talk to you

And listen to you

And construct with words

An indestructible bridge

My tactic is to stay in your memory,

I don't know how

Nor with what pretext

But stay within you

My tactic is to be honest

And know you are too

And that we don't sell each other illusions

So that between us there is no curtain or abyss

My strategy instead is

Deeper and simpler.

My strategy is that some day

I don't know how, nor with what pretext

That finally you need me.

-- Mario Benedetti

Caminante

Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino y nada más;
Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace el camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante no hay camino
sino estelas en la mar.

-g

Oda a un Millonario Muerto

I met a millionaire.
He was a Rancher, king
of gray plains
where horses would get lost.

We walk around his home,
his Gardens,
the pool with a white tower
and waters
to bath a city.
He took off his Shoes,
put his feet,
with some
grim severity,
in the green pool.

I do not know why
one by one
he went discarding
all his women.
They
would dance in Europe
or were quickly traversing the snow aboard a
sledding in Alaska.

He told me how
as a child
he used to sell newspapers
and steal bread.
Now his newspapers
stormed the trembling streets,
beating people with its news
and stated with emphasis
only his opinions.

He had banks, ships,
sins and sorrows.

Sometimes with paper,
pen, memory,
he would sank into his money
counting,
adding, dividing,
multiplying things
until he fell asleep.

I think
the man was never
capable of getting out of his wealth
- it permeated him,
it gave him
air, abstract color --
and he would see himself
inside
as a blind mollusk
surrounded
by an impenetrable wall.

Sometimes, in his eyes
I saw a fire
cold, distant
something desperate that was dying.

I never knew if we were enemies.

He died one night
near Tucumán.
In the disaster
burned his powerful Rolls
as close to the river
the catafalque
of a
dark religion.

I know
all
dead are equal,
but I do not know
I think
that
man in his own way with death
he ceased being a poor prisoner.

-g

DICEN LOS MAS VIEJOS DEL BAR

... primero hay que aprender a olvidar

NO TE SALVES

No te quedes inmóvil al borde del camino
no congeles el júbilo
no quieras con desgana
no te salves ahora
ni nunca.
.
No te salves
no te llenes de calma
no reserves del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
no dejes caer lo párpados
pesados como juicios
no te quedes sin labios
no te duermas sin sueño
no te pienses sin sangre
no te juzgues sin tiempo.
.
Pero si
pese a todo
no puedes evitarlo
y congelas el jubilo
y quieres con desgana
y te salvas ahora
y te llenas de calma
y reservas del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
y dejas caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
y te secas sin labios
y te duermes sin sueño
y te piensas sin sangre
y te juzgas sin tiempo
y te quedas inmóvil
al borde del camino
y te salvas
entonces
no te quedes conmigo


----------------------------
Don't save yourself

Don’t stay motionless by the roadside
don’t freeze joy or love halfheartedly
don’t save yourself
now
or ever
don’t save yourself
don’t become
serene
don’t keep only a still corner in this world
don’t let your eyelids droop heavy
like judgements
don’t stay without lips
don’t sleep without dreams,
imagine you’re bloodless or judge yourself in haste

but if
after all
you can’t help it
and you freeze joy
save yourself,
and become serene,
keep a still corner in the world
and let your eyelids drop heavy with judgements
stay without lips
sleep without dreams,
imagine you’re bloodless,
judge yourself in haste
and stay motionless by the side of the road and save yourself


then
don’t stay with me.

MEDIA VERONICA DESPIERTA

(no sabe distinguir el amor de cualquier sentimiento)

Hello World!

Hello World!