La primera y última vez que vi
a mi ex amante Anne Sexton fue en
una lectura de poesía en protesta contra
alguna guerra inconstitucional en Asia
cuando un académico hijo de puta,
para poner a prueba su fama de borracha
le dio un vaso de cerveza lleno de vino
después de que leímos. Ella se lo bebió
entero, mirándome directo
a los ojos y luego dijo
“No me importa lo que creas,
¿sabes?” como si yo fuera
su ex ¿qué? ¿marido, amante,
qué? Y justo cuando yo
iba a decirle que la amaba, fui, oh,
fui interrumpido por mi bello enemigo
Galway Kinnell, quien le dijo
“Tal como me dijeron, tus ojos,
tienes uno azul y uno verde”
Y ahí estaban, los dos
bellos poetas, mirándose
uno al otro a sus bellos ojos
mientras yo bebía la borra de su vino.
Alan Dugan, Estados Unidos, 1923-2003
versión © Gerardo Gambolini
imagen: s/d
Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton
The first
and last time I met
my ex-lover Anne Sexton was at
a protest poetry reading against
some anti-constitutional war inAsia
when some academic son of a bitch,
to test her reputation as a drunk,
gave her a beer glass full of wine
after our reading. She drank
it all down while staring me
full in the face and then said
my ex-lover Anne Sexton was at
a protest poetry reading against
some anti-constitutional war in
when some academic son of a bitch,
to test her reputation as a drunk,
gave her a beer glass full of wine
after our reading. She drank
it all down while staring me
full in the face and then said
“I don't
care what you think,
you know,” as if I was
her ex-what, husband, lover,
what? And just as I
was just about to say I
loved her, I was, what,
was, interrupted by my beautiful enemy
Galway Kinnell, who said to her
you know,” as if I was
her ex-what, husband, lover,
what? And just as I
was just about to say I
loved her, I was, what,
was, interrupted by my beautiful enemy
Galway Kinnell, who said to her
“Just as I
was told, your eyes,
you have one blue, one green”
and there they were, the two
beautiful poets, staring at
each others’ beautiful eyes
as I drank the lees of her wine.
you have one blue, one green”
and there they were, the two
beautiful poets, staring at
each others’ beautiful eyes
as I drank the lees of her wine.
Oh me levanté y fui a trabajar
y trabajé y volví a casa
y comí y hablé y me fui a dormir.
Después me levanté y fui a trabajar
y trabajé y volví a casa
del trabajo y comí y dormí.
Después me levanté y fui a trabajar
y trabajé y volví a casa
y comí y miré un programa y dormí
Después me levanté y fui a trabajar
y trabajé y volví a casa
y comí bife y me fui a dormir.
Después me levanté y fui a trabajar
y trabajé y volví a casa
y comí y cogí y me fui a dormir.
¡Después fue sábado, sábado, sábado!
¡El amor debe ser la razón de la semana!
¡Fuimos de compras! ¡Ví nubes!
¡Fuimos de compras! ¡Ví nubes!
¡Los niños explicaban todo!
¡Pude hablar de lo que importa!
¿Qué bebí el sábado a la noche
que me perdí la primera, la mejor mitad del domingo?
La segunda mitad no fue digna de estas “noticias”.
Después me levanté y fui a trabajar
y trabajé y volví a casa
del trabajo y comí y me fui a dormir,
renovado pero cansado por el fin de semana.
Alan Dugan, Estados Unidos, 1923-2003
versión © Gerardo Gambolini
On A
Seven-Day Diary
Oh I got up
and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and talked and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and watched a show and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate steak and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and fucked and went to sleep.
Then it was Saturday, Saturday, Saturday!
Love must be the reason for the week!
We went shopping! I saw clouds!
The children explained everything!
I could talk about the main thing!
What did I drink on Saturday night
that lost the first, best half of Sunday?
The last half wasn't worth this ‘word.’
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and went to sleep,
refreshed but tired by the weekend.
and worked and came back home
and ate and talked and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and watched a show and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate steak and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and fucked and went to sleep.
Then it was Saturday, Saturday, Saturday!
Love must be the reason for the week!
We went shopping! I saw clouds!
The children explained everything!
I could talk about the main thing!
What did I drink on Saturday night
that lost the first, best half of Sunday?
The last half wasn't worth this ‘word.’
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and went to sleep,
refreshed but tired by the weekend.
Una vez, una alumna mía leyó un libro que teníamos.
Estaba haciendo una tarea de historia sobre
la decadencia y caída del Imperio Romano
y lloraba. Cuando le pregunté por qué
dijo Porqué. Toda esa gente muerta.
Le dije que si uno empieza a llorar por los muertos
no tendrá mucho tiempo para más nada.
Además, cuando toda la gente de la ciudad fue asesinada
o desapareció, pues su cultura llegó demasiado alto,
los bárbaros dejaron con vida a algunos campesinos
por su valor alimenticio. Algunos bárbaros violaron
a alguna campesina que engendró
una criatura que en última instancia te engendró a ti
y a mí, de modo que hay una continuidad familiar,
así que no llores, es obvia, ¡mira alrededor!
Es por esa razón que los americanos
somos una nación de campesinos y bárbaros.
Alan Dugan, Estados Unidos, 1923-2003
versión © Gerardo Gambolini
Untitled Poem – I
Once, one of my
students read a book we had.
She was
doing a history assignment on
the decline
and fall of the Roman Empire
and crying.
When I asked her why
she said
Because. All those people died.
I said that
if you start to cry for the dead
you won’t
have much time for anything else.
Besides,
after all the city people were killed
or died
off, because their cultures got too high,
the
barbarians kept some peasants alive
for their
food value. Some barbarians raped
some
peasant woman who produced
a child who
ultimately produced you
and me, so
there is this family continuity,
so don’t
cry, it’s obvious, look around!
This is the reason why we Americans are a nation of peasants and barbarians.
