Tuesday, November 11, 1997

Sin presion del mundo que viene contra a mi, sin que me convierta en las cuerdas del abecedario de los infelices transeuntes de la vida cotidiana. Libérame desde hoy.

Deimo

***
The days of our future stand in front of us
like a row of little lit candles --
golden, warm, and lively little candles.

The days past remain behind us,
a mournful line of extinguished candles;
the ones nearest are still smoking,
cold candles, melted, and bent.

I do not want to look at them; their form saddens me,
and it saddens me to recall their first light.
I look ahead at my lit candles.

I do not want to turn back, lest I see and shudder
at how fast the dark line lengthens,
at how fast the extinguished candles multiply.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1899)