Poem
Mario Rivero
Urban sequence
One of those days we lookmore hungrily than usual
at the bark of a tree
and the smell of gasoline
is a good smell
And we are not worried
about saving money
we live an infinite
moment
when we discover that we are
inevitably
going to die
We go to the cinema
planning to stroke
the thighs of a girlfriend
but it so happens
that what she and I see on the screen
makes us both cry
The first lights are turned on
Bank of London Chicles Clark
National City Bank
behind the curtain
the man and the woman look at each other
and put on their last pieces of clothing
There’s a look of ending in everything
when the first lights are turned on
The urchin suddenly bursts
through the door of the bus
hounded like a thief
he makes a quick show
gathers a few coins
and after hiding his booty
in his jacket
he escapes like a battered dog
when the day’s lava
covers us
something of his nasal voice remains
and a fragment of his song
The train advances tiredly
like a tortoise
breathing smoke and coal
the train will be scrap
everything will be dust and scrap
Do not tell me that living is a bad thing
even though something
deep down is wrong.
Not everyone knows
what happens during the day
to be alive is to have a date
in front of a checked tablecloth
or to say we’re going to the corner
to buy peanuts
It is good to sit in the shade
in the summer
to listen to the hammering of the panel beaters
who work in the barracks
far away.
To live is all right
for there is nothing more beautiful
than a worker mixing cement
a crane in the afternoon
or a young whore
washing her mouth
and dreaming about her town
lost in the blue
and balmy valleys
Or the old man going slowly
down the street
stopping often
and carrying a string
of red-golden fish
and the afternoon
swollen with whistles and birds
and a memory
redolent of tobacco and wood
© Translation: 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Secuencia urbana
Secuencia urbana
Un día miramoscon más hambre
la corteza de un árbol
y el olor de la gasolina
es un buen olor
Y no nos molesta
la economía de las monedas
vivimos un momento
infinito
cuando descubrimos
inapelablemente
que nos vamos a morir
Entramos al cine
con el plan de arañarle
los muslos a la amiga
y sucede
que lo que vemos en el lienzo
nos hace llorar a los dos
Se encienden las primeras luces
Banco de Londres Chicles Clark
National City Bank
detrás de la cortina
el hombre y la mujer se miran
y se ponen la última prenda
Hay cara de fin en cada cosa
cuando se encienden las primeras luces
El gamín irrumpe de pronto
por la puerta del bus
acosado como un ladrón
ofrece un rápido espectáculo
recoge unas monedas
y escondiendo el botín
en su chaqueta
escapa como un perro apaleado
cuando la lava del día
nos cubre
nos queda algo de su voz amigdalina
y un pedazo de su canción
El tren avanza fatigado
como una tortuga
respirando humo y carbón
el tren será chatarra
todo será polvo y chatarra
No me digan que vivir está mal
aunque algo nos venga
desde el fondo
No todos saben
lo que pasa en el día
estar vivo es una cita
frente a un mantel a cuadros
o decir vamos a la esquina
de los cacahuetes
Es bueno sentarse a la sombra
en verano
a oír el martilleo de los latoneros
que trabajan sobre las barracas
a lo lejos
Vivir está muy bien
pues no hay nada más bello
que un obrero mezclando cemento
una grúa en la tarde
o una puta joven
elástica
lavándose la boca
y soñando en su pueblo
perdido entre los valles
azules y balsámicos
O el viejo que va despacio
calle abajo
deteniéndose a menudo
y que lleva unidos por una cuerda
un sartal de peces rojo-dorados
y la tarde hinchada de pitos y de pájaros
y un recuerdo
con olor a tabaco y madera
© 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
Urban sequence
One of those days we lookmore hungrily than usual
at the bark of a tree
and the smell of gasoline
is a good smell
And we are not worried
about saving money
we live an infinite
moment
when we discover that we are
inevitably
going to die
We go to the cinema
planning to stroke
the thighs of a girlfriend
but it so happens
that what she and I see on the screen
makes us both cry
The first lights are turned on
Bank of London Chicles Clark
National City Bank
behind the curtain
the man and the woman look at each other
and put on their last pieces of clothing
There’s a look of ending in everything
when the first lights are turned on
The urchin suddenly bursts
through the door of the bus
hounded like a thief
he makes a quick show
gathers a few coins
and after hiding his booty
in his jacket
he escapes like a battered dog
when the day’s lava
covers us
something of his nasal voice remains
and a fragment of his song
The train advances tiredly
like a tortoise
breathing smoke and coal
the train will be scrap
everything will be dust and scrap
Do not tell me that living is a bad thing
even though something
deep down is wrong.
Not everyone knows
what happens during the day
to be alive is to have a date
in front of a checked tablecloth
or to say we’re going to the corner
to buy peanuts
It is good to sit in the shade
in the summer
to listen to the hammering of the panel beaters
who work in the barracks
far away.
To live is all right
for there is nothing more beautiful
than a worker mixing cement
a crane in the afternoon
or a young whore
washing her mouth
and dreaming about her town
lost in the blue
and balmy valleys
Or the old man going slowly
down the street
stopping often
and carrying a string
of red-golden fish
and the afternoon
swollen with whistles and birds
and a memory
redolent of tobacco and wood
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Poemas urbanos
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
From: Poemas urbanos
Urban sequence
One of those days we lookmore hungrily than usual
at the bark of a tree
and the smell of gasoline
is a good smell
And we are not worried
about saving money
we live an infinite
moment
when we discover that we are
inevitably
going to die
We go to the cinema
planning to stroke
the thighs of a girlfriend
but it so happens
that what she and I see on the screen
makes us both cry
The first lights are turned on
Bank of London Chicles Clark
National City Bank
behind the curtain
the man and the woman look at each other
and put on their last pieces of clothing
There’s a look of ending in everything
when the first lights are turned on
The urchin suddenly bursts
through the door of the bus
hounded like a thief
he makes a quick show
gathers a few coins
and after hiding his booty
in his jacket
he escapes like a battered dog
when the day’s lava
covers us
something of his nasal voice remains
and a fragment of his song
The train advances tiredly
like a tortoise
breathing smoke and coal
the train will be scrap
everything will be dust and scrap
Do not tell me that living is a bad thing
even though something
deep down is wrong.
Not everyone knows
what happens during the day
to be alive is to have a date
in front of a checked tablecloth
or to say we’re going to the corner
to buy peanuts
It is good to sit in the shade
in the summer
to listen to the hammering of the panel beaters
who work in the barracks
far away.
To live is all right
for there is nothing more beautiful
than a worker mixing cement
a crane in the afternoon
or a young whore
washing her mouth
and dreaming about her town
lost in the blue
and balmy valleys
Or the old man going slowly
down the street
stopping often
and carrying a string
of red-golden fish
and the afternoon
swollen with whistles and birds
and a memory
redolent of tobacco and wood
© 2004, Nicolás Suescún
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
Translated with the collaboration of Wendy Davies
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