JULIO CORTAZAR ~ THE FUTURE/EL FUTURO
And I know full well you won’t be there.
You won’t be in the street, in the hum that buzzes
from the arc lamps at night, nor in the gesture
of selecting from the menu, nor in the smile
that lightens people packed into the subway,
nor in the borrowed books, nor in the see-you-tomorrow.
You won’t be in my dreams,
in my words’ first destination,
nor will you be in a telephone number
or in the color of a pair of gloves or a blouse.
I’ll get angry, love, without it being on account of you,
and I’ll buy chocolates but not for you,
I’ll stop at the corner you’ll will never come to,
and I’ll say the words that are said
and I’ll eat the things that are eaten
and I’ll dream the dreams that are dreamed
and I know full well you won’t be there,
not here inside, in the prison where I still hold you,
nor there outside, in this river of streets and bridges.
You won’t be there at all, you won’t be even a memory,
and when I think of you I’ll be thinking a thought
that’s obscurely trying to recall you.
EL FUTURO
Y se muy bien que no estaras
No estaras en la calle, en el murmullo que brota de noche
de los postes de alumbrado, ni en el gesto
de elegir el menu, ni en la sonrisa
que alivia los completos en los subtes,
ni en los libros prestados ni en el hasta manana.
No estaras en mis suenos,
en el destino original de mis palabras,
ni en una cifra telefonica estaras
o en el color de un par de guantes o una blusa.
Me enojare, amor mio, sin que sea por ti,
y comprare bombones pero no para ti,
me parare en la esquina a la que non vendras,
y dire las palabras que se dicen
y comere las cosas que se comen
y sonare los suenos que se suenan
y se muy bien que no estaras,
ni aqui adentro, la carcel donde aun te retengo,
ni alli fuera, este rio de calles y de puentes.
No estaras para nada, no seras ni recuerdo,
y quando piense en ti pensare un pensamiento
que oscuramente trata de acordarse de ti.
JULIO CORTAZAR
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JULIO CORTAZAR ~ THE BRIEF LOVE/EL BREVE AMOR
THE BRIEF LOVE
How smoothly and how sweetly
she lifts me from the bed where I was dreaming
of profound and fragrant fields,
she runs her fingers over my skin and sketches me
in space, suspended, until the kiss
alights curved and recurrent
a slow flame kindling
the rhythmic dance of the bonfire
weaving us together in flashes, in spirals,
going and coming in a storm of smoke…
(So why is
what’s left of me, afterwards,
just a sinking into ashes
without a goodbye, with nothing more than a gesture
of letting our hands go free?)
Julio Cortazar
EL BREVE AMOR
Con qué tersa dulzura
me levanta del lecho en que soñaba
profundas plantaciones perfumadas,
me pasea los dedos por la piel y me dibuja
en le espacio, en vilo, hasta que el beso
se posa curvo y recurrente
para que a fuego lento empiece
la danza cadenciosa de la hoguera
tejiédose en ráfagas, en hélices,
ir y venir de un huracán de humo-
(¿Por qué, después,
lo que queda de mí
es sólo un anegarse entre las cenizas
sin un adiós, sin nada más que el gesto
de liberar las manos ?
JULIO CORTAZAR
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