REMEMORARI

IV

I can hear someone talking to me:

Do you remember those folks sited in front of the table,

Taking each other’s hands? They were your grandparents,

And they were really old when you met them.

They were also smiling all day long; however,

They couldn’t laugh, for it was painful and senseless.

Nevertheless they were happy -not then of course-,

But in a past from which you could see

nothing but their smiles.

Be a good boy and laugh for your folks:

Those you remember and those you will not.

III

Where’s Daddy’s dad? You asked. She said he was dead.

Yes, but where is he dead? You continued.

She said nothing but wait! Then she sat next to you and

Imitated your question-related frown.

Where is your grandma, Danny? She asked.

You said she was dead, of course.

Yes, but where is she? Your mother insisted,

And she also winked at you.

You knew she was in your memories

With the rest of your past, waiting the moment

To be alive.

You said she was sat next to the grandpa,

And that they were taking each other’s hands.

Your mother stroked your face and

Looked for something called hope
deep in your eyes.

II

You are dying actually, and the nurse suggests you

to think of something beautiful,

But you are a busy business man facing dead:

You don’t have time to think of senseless things.

So, you focus on finding something useful,

Maybe a quote or the lyrics of an inspiring song,

But words are too beautiful though.

You frown as a last chance, and then

Suddenly, a very old association

Comes to your mind.

Dying, you have chosen to think of the way

Your mother used to make fun of your serious-boy face.

This is a really useful thought,

Thinks our friend, the busy business man,

For she knew always the correct answer.
However, she says nothing but wait!
and sits next to accompany you.

Fancy

Ya estás sentado en tu cuarto, resguardado y solitario.

Se supone que tu alma debiera estar dialogando consigo misma

Y, sin embargo, solo has podido matar el aburrimiento

Preparándote un sándwich de queso.

Parece que no eres una hoja en blanco, blanco como el color del queso,

Sino una cosa hueca… como el fondo del pan.

La temperatura de tu cuerpo desciende y tu cabeza

se vuelve pesada, pareciera que la gravedad la quiere hacer rodar.

Si no te dicen que eres negligente, te devorarán las arañas,

Si no te dicen felicitaciones, no te dirán adiós,

Si no te identificas con tus propios sentimientos,

En un papel los acabarás por proyectar…

Y el día menos pensado probarás con drogas, como quien busca

Un poco de inspiración para seguir escribiendo.

Y ese día tendrás ideas revolucionarías;

Pero como nadie te dice que harás al día siguiente de tu gran día,

Entonces probablemente el día después de mañana te morirás.