Paisaje con sombra y casa
que da a la noche
by Carlos PintadoHuid, niños, de la muerte.
Jueguen. Apártense de mí.
No quisiera yo compartir la infinitud de una plaza,
ni la risa que abre en el aire su más deseable rosa.
Enfermo de enfermas cosas estoy.
Soy una casa oscura
que da a la noche, una casa
habitada tan sólo por los muertos.
Huid de mí, niños de la muerte.
Soy yo quien cierra una ventana a ustedes.
Soy yo quien pasa como un cadáver
ante el asombro de todos.
Yo esperaba al ángel de ojos afilados.
Yo esperaba al ángel.
Y las ventanas se abrieron a la noche,
y yo no fui más.
Yo no fui
yo.
Landscape with Shadow and House
Overlooking the Night
by Carlos PintadoFly, children, from death.
Play. Keep back from me.
I would not want to share the infinity of a plaza,
nor the laughter that unfurls its most coveted rose
into the air.
I am sick with sick things.
I am a darkened house
that overlooks the night, a house
where none dwell but the dead.
Fly from me, children of death.
It is I who bar a window against you.
It is I who walk about like a corpse
to the astonishment of all.
I was waiting for an angel with keen eyes.
I was waiting for an angel.
And the windows opened to the night,
and I was no more,
I was not
Me.
translated from Spanish by Hilary Vaughn Dobel