Espero curarme de ti – Jaime Sabines

22 06 2011

I hope to cure myself of you in a few days. I should stop smoking you, drinking you, thinking you. It’s possible. By following now the prescriptions of morality. I prescribe for myself time, abstinence, solitude.


Does it seem okay that I only love you for a week? It is not a lot, nor a little, it is enough. In a week you can get together all of the love words that have been uttered on the earth and set fire to them. I am going to warm you by that furnace of burnt love. And also silence. Because the best love words are exchanged by two peoples who say nothing to each other.


You have to burn as well  that other subversive side language of the lover. (You know how I tell you that I love you when I say: “It’s hot today”, “Could I get some water?”,  “Do you know how to drive?”, “It’s getting dark”… Between peoples, on one side your people and on the other mine, I told you, “It’s getting late”, and you knew that I was really saying, “I love you”).


It would take another week to gather all the love of all time. To give it to you. So that you can do with it as you please: save it, caress it, toss it in the garbage. It’s broken, that’s for sure. I only want a week to understand it all. For this is a lot like leaving the mad house only to go to the grave.

Es la sombra del agua

24 03 2009


Es la sombra del agua
y el eco de un suspiro,
rastro de una mirada,
memoria de una ausencia,
desnudo de mujer detrás de un vidrio.

Está encerrada, muerta -dedo
del corazón, ella es tu anillo-,
distante del misterio,
fácil como un niño.

Gotas de luz llenaron
ojos vacíos,
y un cuerpo de hojas y alas
se fue al rocío.

Tómala con los ojos,
llénala ahora, amor mío.
Es tuya como de nadie
tuya como el suicidio.

Piedras que hundí en el aire,
maderas que ahogué en el río,
ved mi corazón flotando
sobre su cuerpo sencillo.

-Jaime Sabines

It is the shadow of water,
and the echo of a sigh,
the remnant of a gaze,
memory of an absence,
a nakedness of a woman behind a glass.

She is enclosed, dead, finger
of the heart, she is your ring,
far from the mystery,
simple as a child.

Drops of light filled
empty eyes,
and a body of leaves and wings
went to the dew.

Drink her with the eyes,
fill her now, my love.
She is yours as if she’s no one’s,
yours like a suicide.

Rocks that I buried in the air,
trunks that I drowned in the river,
see my heart floating
over her simple body.