Poem
Mario Rivero
Things that happen
There were this man and this woman who met one dayNo doubt the man smiled to the woman
no doubt he brought her flowers
no doubt he came to know her smell among thousands
and even went as far as sniffing her underwear
her bra and her panties
thrown on the bed
Years later she passes by with a fat gait
all covered in plumed furs
Her cheap and sweet perfume still the same
the same swaying of her charming leech’s rump
only now her eyes are cloudy
as two faded porcelain beads
He looks like a serious and sober man
with his small amount in the bank and his curriculum vitae
he certainly has managed to climb to high places with time
he now examines her in an abstract way
as if he were examining
something old and rusty
in brilliant sunshine
Batting his eyes stupidly in a lapse of forgetfulness
and shadows and grease
Tiresias the blind soothsayer of shrunken breasts
All of us are him
– or at least somewhat like him
© Translation: 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Cosas que pasan
Cosas que pasan
Este hombre y esa mujer se conocieron cierto díaSin duda el hombre sonrió a la mujer
sin duda le trajo flores
sin duda llegó a conocer su olor entre mil
y hasta a olfatear su ropa interior
su brassiére sus pantalones
tirados sobre la cama
Años después ella pasa con un gordo contoneo
envuelta en pieles emplumadas
Su perfume es el mismo barato y dulce
lo mismo ondula su grupa de sanguijuela encantadora
tiene en cambio los ojos turbios
como dos cuentas desteñidas de porcelana
El parece un hombre serio y sobrio
con su cuentica en el Banco y su “curriculum vitae”
no hay duda de que ha sabido ubicarse en el proceso
la mira la examina de una manera abstracta
como si examinara
una cosa vieja oxidada
a la brillante luz del sol
Parpadeando estúpidamente desde un lapso de olvido
y sombra y grasa . . .
Tiresias ciego adivino de mamas arrugadas
Todos somos él
– o algo parecido al menos –
© 1968, Mario Rivero
From: Vuelvo a las calles
From: Vuelvo a las calles
Poems
Poems of Mario Rivero
Close
Things that happen
There were this man and this woman who met one dayNo doubt the man smiled to the woman
no doubt he brought her flowers
no doubt he came to know her smell among thousands
and even went as far as sniffing her underwear
her bra and her panties
thrown on the bed
Years later she passes by with a fat gait
all covered in plumed furs
Her cheap and sweet perfume still the same
the same swaying of her charming leech’s rump
only now her eyes are cloudy
as two faded porcelain beads
He looks like a serious and sober man
with his small amount in the bank and his curriculum vitae
he certainly has managed to climb to high places with time
he now examines her in an abstract way
as if he were examining
something old and rusty
in brilliant sunshine
Batting his eyes stupidly in a lapse of forgetfulness
and shadows and grease
Tiresias the blind soothsayer of shrunken breasts
All of us are him
– or at least somewhat like him
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Vuelvo a las calles
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Vuelvo a las calles
Things that happen
There were this man and this woman who met one dayNo doubt the man smiled to the woman
no doubt he brought her flowers
no doubt he came to know her smell among thousands
and even went as far as sniffing her underwear
her bra and her panties
thrown on the bed
Years later she passes by with a fat gait
all covered in plumed furs
Her cheap and sweet perfume still the same
the same swaying of her charming leech’s rump
only now her eyes are cloudy
as two faded porcelain beads
He looks like a serious and sober man
with his small amount in the bank and his curriculum vitae
he certainly has managed to climb to high places with time
he now examines her in an abstract way
as if he were examining
something old and rusty
in brilliant sunshine
Batting his eyes stupidly in a lapse of forgetfulness
and shadows and grease
Tiresias the blind soothsayer of shrunken breasts
All of us are him
– or at least somewhat like him
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
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