and after sessions luxurious and tender

Three poems by Idea Vilariño translated by Jesse Lee Kercheval

Tango

by Idea Vilariño

Yo vengo por la calle

compro pan

entro en casa

hay niebla y vengo triste

tu amor es un ausencia

tu amor digo mi amor

amor que quedó en nada.

Subo las escaleras

repasando esa historia

y me quedo en lo oscuro

tras de la puerta

amarga

pensando no pensando

en tu amor

en la vida

en la soledad que es

única certidumbre.

 

Tango

by Idea Vilariño

I come down the street

buy bread

enter the house

there is fog and I arrive home sad

your love is an absence

your love, I say, my love

love that came to nothing.

I climb the stairs

reviewing this history

and I stop in the dark

behind the bitter

door

thinking not thinking

on your love

on life

in the solitude that is

the only certainty.

translated from Spanish by Jesse Lee Kercheval
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Después

by Idea Vilariño

Es otra

acaso es otra

la que va recobrando

su pelo su vestido su manera

la que ahora retoma

su vertical su peso

y después de sesiones lujuriosas y tiernas

se sale por la puerta entera y pura

y no busca saber

no necesita

y no quiere saber

nada de nadie.

 

Later

by Idea Vilariño

There is another

perhaps there is another

the one going to recover

her hair her clothes her manners

the one that now measures again

her height her weight

and after sessions luxurious and tender

she goes out the door whole and pure

and does not seek to know

does not need or want to know

anything about anyone.

translated from Spanish by Jesse Lee Kercheval
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Me pregunto

by Idea Vilariño

No pensarás a veces

no volverás los ojos

a aquel estante al libro

que volví a su lugar

a aquella mesa de café en Malvín

ya tarde

al aire libre

conmigo y los muchachos

o tal vez al café pajarería

de donde huíy dejé que me alcanzaras.

No te acordás

supongo

de mi puerta entreabriéndose

a las dos de la tarde

y tú con un sombrero

que por fin regresabas.

No te acordás

seguro

no sabés que una noche

te esperé y fue una noche

de amor

y no viniste

y fui feliz vagando por la casa

escuchando la escalera

esperándote.

Hubo también las noches

—torpe de mí

te odiaba—

en que llamabas

—dígame

cómo ordeno esta serie

es mejor esto o esto—

y esa otra en el suelo

con luna y mis retratos

tirados por ahí que todavía

tienen manchas de vino.

O la noche terrible en que tú estabas

llorando en el teléfono

nunca lloré decías

y yo mi amor mi amor

—te había echado

había muerto

y yo mi amor

mi amor

y yo estaba con otro. 

I Wonder

by Idea Vilariño

Will you not think sometimes

will you not return your eyes

to that shelf to the book

that I returned to its place

to that table in the bar in Malvin

already late

outdoors

with me and the boys

or perhaps at the café like a bird cage

from which I fled and left you to catch up with me.

You don’t remember

I suppose

my door half-open

at two in the afternoon

and you with a hat

finally returning.

You don’t remember

I am sure

don’t know that one night

I waited for you and it was a night

of love

and you did not come

and I was happy wandering in the house

listening at the stairs

waiting for you.

There were also nights—

clumsy with my

hating you—

when you called

Tell me

how to order this sequence

is it better like this or like this

and this other one on the floor

with the moon and my portraits

thrown around that still

have wine stains.

Or the terrible night when you were

crying on the telephone

I never cried you were saying

and me my love my love—

I had thrown you out

I was dead

and me my love

my love

I was with another.

translated from Spanish by Jesse Lee Kercheval
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