Oh sí
hay cosas peores que
estar solo
pero a menudo lleva décadas
pero a menudo lleva décadas
darse cuenta de eso
y más a menudo
y más a menudo
cuando lo haces
es demasiado tarde
y no hay nada peor
que
es demasiado tarde
y no hay nada peor
que
demasiado tarde
Oh Yes
there are
worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it’s too late
and there’s nothing worse
than
too late.
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it’s too late
and there’s nothing worse
than
too late.
desnudo al costado de la casa,
las 8 a .m.,
poniéndome aceite de sésamo
en el cuerpo, Dios, he llegado
a esto?
alguna vez en callejones oscuros
luché por una risa.
ahora no estoy riendo.
me esparzo aceite y me pregunto
cuántos años quieres?
cuántos días?
mi sangre está manchada y hay un ángel
oscuro posado en mi cerebro.
las cosas están hechas de algo y
terminan en nada.
entiendo la decadencia de las ciudades, de
las naciones.
pasa un pequeño avión.
alzo la vista como si tuviera sentido
mirar hacia ariba.
es cierto, el cielo se ha podrido:
no falta mucho para ninguno de
nosotros.
Decline
naked along the side of the house,
8 a.m., spreading sesame seed oil
over my body, Jesus, have I come
to this?
I once battled in dark alleys for a
laugh.
now I'm not laughing.
I splash myself with oil and wonder,
how many years do you want?
how many days?
my blood is soiled and a dark
angel sits in my brain.
things are made of something and
go to nothing.
I understand the fall of cities, of
nations.
a small plane passes overhead.
I look upward as if it made sense to
look upward.
it’s true, the sky has rotted:
it won’t be long for any of
us.
8 a.m., spreading sesame seed oil
over my body, Jesus, have I come
to this?
I once battled in dark alleys for a
laugh.
now I'm not laughing.
I splash myself with oil and wonder,
how many years do you want?
how many days?
my blood is soiled and a dark
angel sits in my brain.
things are made of something and
go to nothing.
I understand the fall of cities, of
nations.
a small plane passes overhead.
I look upward as if it made sense to
look upward.
it’s true, the sky has rotted:
it won’t be long for any of
us.
era un hombre realmente asombroso
se daba aires de
rico
aunque vivíamos a avena y frijoles y salchichas
cuando nos sentábamos a comer decía
“no todo el mundo puede comer así.”
y porque quería ser rico o porque realmente
creía que era rico
siempre votó a los republicanos
y votó a Hoover contra Roosevelt
y perdió
y después votó a Landon contra Roosevelt
y volvió a perder,
diciendo, “¡No sé adónde irá a parar este mundo,
ahora que tenemos a ese maldito rojo ahí de nuevo
y después tendremos a los rusos en nuestro patio trasero!”
creo que fue mi padre quien me llevó a decidir
ser un vago.
decidí que si un hombre así quiere ser rico,
yo quiero ser pobre.
y me hice un vago.
viví con centavos y en cuartos baratos y
en bancos de plaza.
pensé que los vagos quizás sabían algo.
pero descubrí que la mayoría de los vagos también
querían ser ricos.
sólo que habían fracasado en eso.
así, atrapado entre mi padre y los vagos
no tenía un lugar adonde ir
y fui allí, rápido y despacio.
nunca voté republicanos
nunca voté.
lo enterré
como un bicho raro de la tierra
como cien mil bichos raros
como millones de otros bichos raros,
consumidos.
my father
was a truly
amazing man
he pretended to be
rich
even though we lived on beans and mush and weenies
when we sat down to eat, he said,
he pretended to be
rich
even though we lived on beans and mush and weenies
when we sat down to eat, he said,
“not
everybody can eat like this.”
and because he wanted to be rich or because he actually
thought he was rich
he always voted Republican
and he voted for Hoover against Roosevelt
and he lost
and then he voted for Alf Landon against Roosevelt
and he lost again
saying, “I don't know what this world is coming to,
now we’ve got that god damned Red in there again
and the Russians will be in our backyard next!”
I think it was my father who made me decide to
become a bum.
I decided that if a man like that wants to be rich
then I want to be poor.
and I became a bum.
I lived on nickles and dimes and in cheap rooms and
on park benches.
I thought maybe the bums knew something.
but I found out that most of the bums wanted to be
rich too.
they had just failed at that.
so caught between my father and the bums
I had no place to go
and I went there fast and slow.
never voted Republican
never voted.
buried him
like an oddity of the earth
like a hundred thousand oddities
like millions of other oddities,
wasted.
and because he wanted to be rich or because he actually
thought he was rich
he always voted Republican
and he voted for Hoover against Roosevelt
and he lost
and then he voted for Alf Landon against Roosevelt
and he lost again
saying, “I don't know what this world is coming to,
now we’ve got that god damned Red in there again
and the Russians will be in our backyard next!”
I think it was my father who made me decide to
become a bum.
I decided that if a man like that wants to be rich
then I want to be poor.
and I became a bum.
I lived on nickles and dimes and in cheap rooms and
on park benches.
I thought maybe the bums knew something.
but I found out that most of the bums wanted to be
rich too.
they had just failed at that.
so caught between my father and the bums
I had no place to go
and I went there fast and slow.
never voted Republican
never voted.
buried him
like an oddity of the earth
like a hundred thousand oddities
like millions of other oddities,
wasted.
Somos como rosas que jamás se molestaron en
florecer cuando deberíamos haber florecido y
es como si
el sol se hubiera hartado con
la espera
Finish
We are like
roses that have never bothered to
bloom when we should have bloomed and
it is as if
the sun has become disgusted with
waiting
bloom when we should have bloomed and
it is as if
the sun has become disgusted with
waiting
Charles Bukowski, Andemach, 1920 – Los Ángeles, 1994
versiones © Gerardo Gambolini
