Poem
Mario Rivero
The friends
Sometimes I ask myself what became of my friendsafter all these days
that have let fall their ashes.
Those who lived in the barracks
by the river, a dirty river that divides the city
in two slices of grass
where slow women with great feet
carry bundles of rags on their heads.
The one with the blue and the worn-out cap
who worked cleaning looms
His father was a mechanic
and he too wanted to be a mechanic
I’m sure both go on
eating their daily sandwiches
and that their only love is screws.
The skinny one with the bicycle
envied by all
because he had so many Charles Atlas magazines
and used to say he could lift a hundred kilos.
He had a girlfriend and he didn’t like clouds.
After many cities,
towers of iron, boulevards
women with gaudy make-up on the corners
in the restaurants, etc., where everyone
is a bit lonely
they don’t know each other
but they look at each other
they bet on horses in front of the TV set
at weekends
and want to go to the sea.
I go on looking from my papers
at the girl who used
to lean against the lamppost.
© Translation: 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Los amigos
Los amigos
A veces me pregunto qué fue de los amigosdespués de que los días
han dejado caer su ceniza.
Los que vivían en las barracas
sobre el río, un río sucio que parte la ciudad
en dos tajadas de hierba
donde mujeres lentas de grandes pies
llevan fardos de trapos sobre la cabeza.
El de la cachucha azul y raída
que limpiaba telares
Su padre era mecánico
Estoy seguro de que ambos
continúan comiendo su emparedado
cotidiano
y su único amor son los tornillos.
El flaco de la bicicleta
que todos envidiaban
porque tenía muchas revistas de Charles Atlas
y decía que era capaz de levantar cien kilos
Tenía novia y no le gustaban las nubes.
Después muchas ciudades
torres de acero, bulevares
mujeres pintarrajeadas en las esquinas
restaurantes, etc., donde todos están
un poco solos
no se conocen pero se miran
apuestan a las carreras frente al televisor
los fines de semana
y desean ir al mar.
Yo sigo buscando desde mis papeles
a la muchacha que se paraba
contra el poste de la luz.
© 1963, Mario Rivero
From: Poemas urbanos
Publisher: Antares-Tercer Mundo, Bogotá
From: Poemas urbanos
Publisher: Antares-Tercer Mundo, Bogotá
Poems
Poems of Mario Rivero
Close
The friends
Sometimes I ask myself what became of my friendsafter all these days
that have let fall their ashes.
Those who lived in the barracks
by the river, a dirty river that divides the city
in two slices of grass
where slow women with great feet
carry bundles of rags on their heads.
The one with the blue and the worn-out cap
who worked cleaning looms
His father was a mechanic
and he too wanted to be a mechanic
I’m sure both go on
eating their daily sandwiches
and that their only love is screws.
The skinny one with the bicycle
envied by all
because he had so many Charles Atlas magazines
and used to say he could lift a hundred kilos.
He had a girlfriend and he didn’t like clouds.
After many cities,
towers of iron, boulevards
women with gaudy make-up on the corners
in the restaurants, etc., where everyone
is a bit lonely
they don’t know each other
but they look at each other
they bet on horses in front of the TV set
at weekends
and want to go to the sea.
I go on looking from my papers
at the girl who used
to lean against the lamppost.
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Poemas urbanos
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Poemas urbanos
The friends
Sometimes I ask myself what became of my friendsafter all these days
that have let fall their ashes.
Those who lived in the barracks
by the river, a dirty river that divides the city
in two slices of grass
where slow women with great feet
carry bundles of rags on their heads.
The one with the blue and the worn-out cap
who worked cleaning looms
His father was a mechanic
and he too wanted to be a mechanic
I’m sure both go on
eating their daily sandwiches
and that their only love is screws.
The skinny one with the bicycle
envied by all
because he had so many Charles Atlas magazines
and used to say he could lift a hundred kilos.
He had a girlfriend and he didn’t like clouds.
After many cities,
towers of iron, boulevards
women with gaudy make-up on the corners
in the restaurants, etc., where everyone
is a bit lonely
they don’t know each other
but they look at each other
they bet on horses in front of the TV set
at weekends
and want to go to the sea.
I go on looking from my papers
at the girl who used
to lean against the lamppost.
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
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